A Whole New World
by AKxx
Summary: Muggle-born witch, Octavia Granger, has always struggled to step out of her cousin's shadow. They attend Hogwarts together, but Octavia can't seem to manage a simple spell without blowing everyone up. Though, there are much graver things to be concerned about than inferior magical abilities... [Slytherin Harry and Draco. AU] (PART 1 OF 2-PART SERIES)
1. Chapter 1

**_A/N: This fic is Alt. Universe, some things canon and others not. Voldemort and his horcruxes are not a factor in this story, but the Triwizard Tournament will take place. Each year at Hogwarts will span over three chapters or so. Slytherin!Harry is established in the wizarding world, raised by Sirius (who never went to Azkaban) and completely OOC. Additional a/n at the end of the chapter. I hope you enjoy, lovelies! AKxx_**

A Whole New World Chapter 1

* * *

Today was a grand day. It was a day bursting at the seams with nervous anticipation. It was a day where the unknown was revealed, and Octavia Granger would enter the mystical world she truly belonged to. All those years of strange events occurring around her had finally been explained.

Octavia Granger was a witch.

The revelations of magical powers didn't have the impact on her family that she had expected, however. After she had received her Hogwarts acceptance letter, Octavia was all too eager to visit Diagon Alley. It was there that she and her parents bumped into other relatives. Her cousin, uncle and aunt. Now, with the discovery that her cousin Hermione Granger was also a witch, Octavia's uniqueness had taken a hit.

Octavia wasn't particularly fond of her 'know-it-all', bushy-haired cousin. That was primarily due to Hermione's intellect. As Octavia wasn't the sharpest quill in the inkpot she harboured considerable envy for her brilliant-minded cousin. For once in her life, Octavia had foolishly thought herself to be special; to be better than her cousin. But of course, Hermione couldn't allow that. Hermione had to be intelligent, relatively pretty _and_ magical. Whereas Octavia was only two of those things, and she definitely wasn't intelligent. Crafty? Yes. Sneaky? Definitely. But intelligent? Hardly.

Despite her less than favourable sentiments toward her cousin, Octavia clutched onto Hermione's hand tightly, too afraid to let go. It made her feel a little better that Hermione was holding her hand just as tightly, as though she was as terrified and anxious as she. Flicking her tight blonde curls over her shoulder, Octavia's big hazel eyes sparkled spectacularly as she gazed at her surroundings. Frequently, she bit and chewed her plump pink lips, scrunching her upturned nose in confusion or distaste at times.

The Granger girls stood on Platform 9 ¾, surrounded by the oddest people they had ever seen. Hermione waffled on beside her, reciting constant blurbs from the magical books she had purchased on Diagon Alley two weeks ago. Honestly, it was like being in the company of a never-ending stream of audiobooks. Interesting at times, but monotonous when you weren't in the mood. And O wasn't in the mood. She was far too enthralled and captivated by the odd attire of the other occupants on Platform ¾. People in pointed hats scattered the platform, some hats drooping, others standing tall and straight. Robes of every colour assaulted her vision; blue, green, yellow, red, pink, orange, purple, you name it, they wore it. Some on the platform wore muggle attire, but not many. Most wore robes of various colours, others wearing sophisticated black robes, and a few wearing shirts and slacks. The varied fashion was a sight to behold, as were the floating trunks in the air, teetering owls and hissing cats. The familiars of the students were all trapped in cages for their own security for the trip to Hogwarts, but they added to the atmosphere regardless.

Octavia suddenly felt quite self-conscious. Most of the people around her wore robes. Colourful, and somewhat tacky robes. But she wore clothes from her own world. The world she had grown up in. A plain grey t-shirt hung loosely off her upper-body, a pair of light blue jeans coated onto her legs, and a pair of white converse on her feet. It wasn't the greatest of her usually carefully selected outfits, but it was comfortable enough for the long train ride ahead. According to the information sent by Hogwarts, it would take eight hours to get to the boarding school in the highlands of Scotland.

The train that would dutifully transport all students to the magical school stood right before the Granger girls on the edge of the platform. Both Hermione and Octavia gazed in awe at the old steam train, but it was not unlike the trains in their own world.

"- though the magical pure-bloods were unhappy about the use of trains and deemed them to be 'unsanitary, hazardous and demeaning'." Hermione waffled on, reciting word-for-word extracts from her new favourite tome _Hogwarts A History._ "It runs entirely on magic, and was introduced as an alternative to portkeys by means of travelling to the school. Apparently portkeys caused many students to fall ill to portkey-sickness, so they were left with no other option but to use trains."

Octavia despised reading, for the simple reason that she rarely understood the words used. Due to that, she teased Hermione throughout the summer for her book-worm nature, claiming that learning of the magical world first hand was far better than reading about it in a crusty old book. But that didn't stop her from asking questions.

"What's a pure-blood?" Octavia asked quietly, the nerves evident in her hushed and hesitant tone.

"A witch or a wizard that is born from pure magical heritage," Hermione answered instantly. "They will have ancestry with no muggles or other magical beings. I read about them in –"

"Hogwarts A History," Octavia interjected, mimicking her cousin's important tone.

"Well if you perhaps read the book for a moment, you may not need to ask questions, O." Hermione snapped quietly, so as not to gain the attention of their parents.

"Whatever," Octavia droned, their parents chatting amongst themselves behind the two girls.

Steam billowed out of the chimney on the nose of the train, a loud _choo-choo!_ sound echoing throughout the bustling platform. The noise indicated that it was time to board.

Both Hermione and Octavia turned to face their parents, Hermione raising her chin bravely in the air as Octavia frowned and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.

"Come here," Louise Granger beckoned, spreading her arms for her daughter.

Octavia shuffled over to her mother, allowing the woman to embrace her, but only lazily returning the hug. After her mother showered her scrunched up face with chaste kisses, Octavia groaned and rubbed her hands over her face moodily. Her father then performed the same actions, Octavia accepting and returning his embrace with more affection than she did with her mother. She was still annoyed with the woman for denying her recent request of sweets as they had passed through central foyer of the train station fifteen minutes ago.

"Now, listen here." David Granger began sternly, Octavia blinking up at him innocently. "Just because you're away from us at school doesn't mean we won't know if you're misbehaving, alright? I expect you to study hard and write to us every week, you got that young lady?"

"Yes, daddy." Octavia smiled, appearing as innocent as possible. "I promise."

"Atta girl," her father grinned, ruffling her tight curls as she scowled instantly

"Don't," she wined, whacking her father's hand away.

"David," her mother scolded. "Do not embarrass her, dear."

David rolled his eyes, but removed his hand and ceased his actions at once. Mother was the boss. Father did as she said without question.

Louise crouched down to her daughter's height, taking her hands gently and meeting the anxious hazel eyes that brought light to her life.

"Don't be scared," Louise whispered, smiling gently at her daughter. "You'll be brilliant and you'll make so many friends. You always do."

O nodded, hoping that her mother was right. O would simply be lost without friends. Not because she would be lonely, but because she had never been without any, so wouldn't know what to do with herself at all.

"Don't talk to strangers, and I expect you to pass all of your subjects this time, ok?"

"Yes, mummy," Octavia nodded, ashamed at the reminding of her dismal grades in her final year of primary school.

Her mother rose into a standing positon, issuing her goodbyes to Hermione as Octavia did the same with her aunt and uncle. After a few moments, Octavia found herself grabbing onto the handle of her brown and hefty trunk that contained her belongings and school supplies, ready to embark on a journey she wished she could avoid.

Final waves of goodbyes were performed before Octavia and Hermione disappeared into the bustling crowds of students by the train. Following her cousin to the train, Octavia grunted as she carted the inconveniently large and hefty trunk behind her. Her white converse sneakers scuffed against the ground and she dragged the heavy trunk with all her might, hauling it behind her as she climbed onto the train.

Hermione veered to the left once in the narrow passageway of the Hogwarts Express, winding and weaving her way through the clusters of students. Some students stood at the windows, waving final farewells to their parents on the platform. Others barged through the crowds, quickly making their way to empty compartments, the doors of which were lined on the right side of the corridor. It took them no more than a few minutes to find a vacant compartment at the end of the train, hauling their trunks along with great difficulty.

After they struggled to place their trunks atop the grates that hung above the bench-seats, both Granger girls made themselves comfortable by the square window.

As predictable as ever, Hermione pulled out a heavy tome from her ordinary backpack and placed it on her lap. Three guesses what book she had chosen to read on the long journey to Hogwarts.

Octavia pulled out her iPod from the back pocket of her jeans, untangling the purple earphones patiently.

"That won't work, you know," Hermione said, not even glancing up from the opened tome on her lap. "According to this, muggle technology cannot function in magical places. It causes an interfere apparently."

Despite what her cousin had said, Octavia stuffed an earphone into the cavity of her ear and switched it on. Her eyes widened in horror as the screen displayed distorted words before giving way to static and malfunctioning instantly.

"I did warn you," Hermione sighed, turning a crisp page of the book.

"Awesome," Octavia groaned, stuffing her iPod into her Chanel backpack.

Hermione didn't respond, seemingly submerged in her favourite pastime of reading and learning, leaving Octavia to gaze out of the window. Boredom was quick to creep in, the blonde girl frequently shifting around in her seat and swinging her legs leisurely.

"Are you scared?" Octavia asked quietly, turning her stare to her cousin.

"No," Hermione answered, flicking the page over.

"Me either." Octavia lied, nodding as though she could convince herself.

Hermione glanced up at her palpably anxious cousin from beneath her lashes, her lips pressing into a thin line.

Octavia shifted around in her seat again, constantly biting her lip and fidgeting her feet together. Her usual movements when terribly afraid or nervous.

"If you are scared," Hermione said, "you really shouldn't be."

"I'm not scared," O frowned childishly. "You are."

"Ok," Hermione smiled and held the apprehensive gaze of her cousin. "Let's say I am scared; what reason would I have to feel that way? I'm going to a school with people like me. People that understand what it's like to do amazing things and scary things. I won't be the only one who accidently blows rooms apart when I cry, or in your case, set fire to your classroom when the teacher is mean to you."

"That was an accident," Octavia groaned, lolling her head back against the back of the seat. "I didn't mean to."

"I know," Hermione laughed. "But everyone else that we're going to school with has probably done those things too. We're just going to learn how to control our gift. What's scary about that?"

"Nothing," Octavia shrugged lamely, puckering her plump lips as she frowned.

Hermione assessed her cousin for a moment, watching as she habitually played with her tight ringlets, the nerves still plaguing her body.

"What house do you think I'll be put in?" Octavia asked.

"I think you'll be in Slytherin," Hermione observed, her tone studious.

"What's that one again?" Octavia frowned. "The one with the badger?"

"That's Hufflepuff." Hermione corrected. "Slytherin is the one with snakes."

"Oh," Octavia nodded, swinging her legs leisurely.

"It's not a bad house," Hermione explained. "They are cunning and crafty, but have loyalty to one another. I've read that Merlin himself was once a Slytherin, you know. They're ambitious and resourceful, and have great skills of self-preservation."

"What about you?" Octavia asked, perking up a little. "Will you be in Slytherin?"

"I don't think so," Hermione shook her head. "Perhaps Ravenclaw or Gryffindor."

"They're the smart ones, yeah?" Octavia frowned. "Ravenclaws."

"Yes," Hermione nodded. "Gryffindors are loyal and courageous."

"I wanna be in the same house as you," Octavia murmured.

"Why?"

"So we can sit together in class and stuff."

"We'll still share most of the same classes," Hermione reassured. "There aren't a lot of students, according to _Hogwarts A History_ , so we generally share the compulsory subjects with the same year group from the other houses."

"Oh," Octavia nodded, relief washing over her.

If she didn't make any friends, she would always have her cousin to sit with in class. The discovery soothed her roaring anxieties a little.

"Where's your wand?" Hermione asked, arching her brow.

"In my trunk."

"You should carry it with you, O." Hermione sighed. "You need to bond with it."

"It's a piece of wood," Octavia quirked her perfectly sculpted brow.

"It's your counterpart," Hermione disagreed. "Without it, you won't be able to do magic and channel it properly."

"Yeah, but it doesn't fit in my pocket."

Hermione rolled her eyes and snapped her book shut, moving it from her lap to the seat beside her. She then slipped out her long carved wand, placed her fist against her mouth and cleared her throat.

" _Capacious extremis_ ," Hermione stated clearly, swishing her wand in a slow and perfect circle, aiming right at Octavia's blue-wash jeans.

Nothing happened.

Nada.

"There," Hermione nodded firmly, tucking her wand pack into her jacket pocket.

"There what?" Octavia scoffed, glancing down at her jeans that had not changed in the slightest.

"Your pocket is now big enough to store your wand," Hermione said, a proud glint in her honey brown eyes.

Octavia frowned and stuffed her hand into the once-tiny pocket, now able to fit her entire forearm into the tight crevice.

"How'd you do that?" Octavia gasped in astonishment.

"A simple undetectable extension charm," Hermione stated importantly. "You should really read -"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Octavia groaned, pushing herself from the bench and climbing up the seat to reach her trunk.

After much fumbling around and muttered swear words that O would never dare speak in front of her mother, the blonde muggle-born successfully removed her wand and plopped back down on her seat. The magical stick was the colour of ivory, smooth and long, elegant and featuring engraved swirls at the base to the tip. It was nice; if you cared about the appearance of a stick, that is.

"Thought we couldn't do magic on purpose outside of Hogwarts," Octavia frowned, eyeing her wand cautiously, a mild tingle shooting through her arm from holding the object.

"That rule does not apply once on the Hogwarts Express," Hermione explained. "I suppose they consider the train to be an extension of the school."

Octavia sighed, stretching out her limbs before laying on her side, facing her cousin. She stuffed the wand into her big pocket.

"Are we there yet?" Octavia groaned, trying to get comfortable on the bench-seat.

"Only another seven hours and forty minutes to go." Hermione laughed, repositioning the book on her lap.

"I'm gonna sleep until we get there," Octavia declared, curling up into a ball. "Wake me up if there's food."

"I wouldn't dream of denying you food," Hermione smiled, teasing her gluttonous cousin.

But the words either went unheard or ignored. For O's eyes were shut and she didn't respond other than the rubbing of her nose.

* * *

Octavia grunted and swore under her breath as she toppled over, colliding with the solid sink that protruded from the wall. Honestly, it was a bloody nightmare to change into school robes with only the miniscule space of the toilets. At the tail of the train was a line of small toilets as opposed to compartments, and they seemed to be the location of choice for all students to use when changing into their robes.

As she loathed waiting in queues, Octavia had waited until the very last hour of the train ride before journeying to the lavatories and getting changed. There was still a queue of students waiting for one of the six lavatory doors, but it was considerably shorter than it had been for the past hour.

Octavia quickly discovered that the toilets were of the unisex variety, for there were droplets of urine dotting the linoleum floor. Unfortunately, due to the small space of the cubicle-sized lavatory, it was near impossible to avoid stepping in it repeatedly. For that reason, Octavia stood on a pile of toilet roll that she had draped over the floor to protect her bare feet from the urine. The nuisance of the small space combined with her anxieties had her in a foul mood to be sure. It wasn't often that the usually perky Octavia was feeling particularly irritable, but it was difficult to keep her simmering vexation at bay.

Not only was she journeying to a school in a world that she didn't know, Octavia was doing so with her bossy cousin. Already Hermione was driving her up the wall with constant regurgitations of information that she had evidently learned in books. On top of that, Octavia knew that the rule-following brunette would snitch on her to her parents should she step out of line. Just like she had always done at primary school.

The girls just didn't get along. They were entirely different, and shared barely anything in common. That should not suggest, however, that they did not love one another. For they did. But for once, Octavia would have liked to have been the special one in the family. She would have liked to have been appreciated for something other than her pretty face and charm. A silly prospect, she realised. For Hermione would always be the special one. The golden child. And Octavia would never be anything more than the silly girl with big hazel eyes and delightful curls.

A rapid knock on the door pulled her out of her reverie, Octavia standing in her underwear as she changed into her robes clumsily. Scowling at the door as though it had offended her greatly, Octavia snatched her school skirt from the pile of material on the sink and shimmied into it awkwardly. Again, a rapid knock banged against the door, but this time much harder than the last.

Ignoring it effortlessly, Octavia clasped the skirt onto her body and adjusted it before grabbing her white shirt and slipping it on.

Hazel eyes glistened with mounting frustration as a loud bang rattled the flimsy door of the small lavatory.

"Occupied!" Octavia shouted, buttoning up her shirt.

"Have you fallen in the toilet, or something equally as stupid?" A boy's voice shouted back, another bang vibrating the door. "Hurry up, I need to change into my robes!"

Absolutely furious, Octavia unlocked the door and whipped it open, finding herself face-to-face with the blonde offender. He was a little taller than her, so she had to tilt her head upwards to meet his stare, but that didn't stop her. She was not intimated nor threatened. She was simply manifesting her anxieties and disappointments, and directing him right at the blonde boy in front of her.

"I will take as long as I want." Octavia hissed, wild tight curls framing her pretty yet furious face. "It's not like this is the only toilet, right?"

The blonde boy merely blinked at her as though he was clearing foggy vision or something of the like. His fierce silver eyes turned soft, his pink lips parting as he appeared at a loss for words. His skin was a smooth and marble-like pale, his complexion utterly flawless. A sophisticated demeanour radiated from the boy who was approximately the same age as she, and he was dressed in black robes that were not of Hogwarts, suggesting that he was not from the muggle world.

The boy would be considerably handsome to those who cared. Octavia didn't care. Boys were gross in general, and this particular one had annoyed her greatly on the most terrifying day of her life.

"Are you deaf?" Octavia snapped, further provoked by his strange silence and stillness. "You will have to wait."

The blonde boy licked his pink lips nervously, nodding marginally as he stepped back. But he didn't retreat out of intimidation or self-preservation, no. He appeared to be in stupor of sorts. Very peculiar.

"Sorry," he mumbled, pressing his back against the wall and he resumed his 'patient' waiting for a free toilet stall. "I mistook you for someone else."

"Right," Octavia scoffed. "So can I finish getting ready without you banging on the door?"

A fierce blush crept up onto the boy's cheeks before he nodded and averted his gaze to the carpeted floor between them. It was all she saw of him before she slammed the door shut and proceeded to change into her robes. Perhaps with a pang of pity and regret for speaking to someone in such a way, but she shoved those feelings down and went about her business.

How could she focus on someone else's misfortune or unhappiness when she herself was being torn away from her parents and thrown into a mysterious world of the unknown?

* * *

After a thirty-minute boat ride beneath the moon and the stars, the cluster of first year students ascended the staircase of the majestic and mystical castle. They were led by the Keeper of the Keys, Rubeus Hagrid; a gruff and incredibly large man, his face almost concealed by a bushy mane that gave Hermione's hair a run for its money.

There weren't many first years that climbed the stairs in an apprehensive and excitable atmosphere, and some were evidently more nervous than others. Hermione was not one of the frightened. She was one of the excited.

A pudgy dorky looking boy was walking with the two Granger girls, complaining about losing a toad on the train ride to Hogwarts. How peculiar. Octavia would hardly be dismayed at losing a toad of all things. A puppy? Yes. But a toad? Definitely not.

Cliques and friendships were already forming in the group of twenty-six first years, most in discussions regarding the sorting ceremony that they would soon be faced with. The pale boy that Octavia had unfortunately encountered on the Hogwarts Express walked a few steps ahead, flanked by two dark-haired boys. One of the boys that endured his company was a tanned and snobbish one, the other spectacled and had a casual air about him. Unfortunately, the blonde boy kept glancing over his shoulder and looking at Octavia, only blushing and turning back around when she noticed his stares. She didn't like him much. From the way he spoke – or rather, drawled – he was quite the pompous child.

Apparently his father had done and said many things, most of which Octavia didn't really understand. There was something about governors of the school and the Ministry of Magic that he spoke of. Other than that, she barely followed the conversation between the trio ahead.

As they reached the top of the staircase, they were met with grand double doors, as tall as the wall and as wide as her bedroom back home. In front of the engraved wooden doors was a stern looking woman who peered over her thin glasses with severe beady eyes, a long and pointy hat atop her greying hair.

Octavia swallowed audibly at the sternness of the woman, clutching onto Hermione's arm like a frightened child. But she was exactly that, wasn't she? A frightened child, hurled into a strange and new world, faced with the unknown. It wasn't exactly comforting to know the other children around her were the 'same'. For some spoke as though they had only ever known the magical world, leaving Octavia feeling like an alien amidst true witches and wizards.

"Professor McGonagall," gruffed Hagrid, introducing the stern woman as she stood as straight and still as a statue.

The woman peered over her glasses, assessing the students as they quickly fell into a tense and excited silence.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the all houses, but only sit with your own house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room."

"Trevor!" The pudgy boy beside Hermione shouted.

A few students snickered as McGonagall pursed her wrinkled lips. The boy lunged at her feet, gently retrieving a slimy warty toad from the stone ground. He bowed his head in shame, his cheeks aflame with humiliation as he waddled back over to the bushy-haired Granger and averted his stare to the floor.

Seemingly pleased with her silent scolding of the nervous boy, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and re-addressed the rest of the students.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin." The Professor spoke, the final word laced with distaste. "Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

Pulling nervously at the hem of her grey school skirt, Octavia swallowed and shuffled her feet. She was hardly the brightest student or best behaved, so she was certain that whichever house she was sorted into would hardly benefit from her contribution.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smart yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Her eyes lingered for a moment on the pudgy boy's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and the spectacled boy's messy black hair.

"I will return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

The moment that both Professor McGonagall and Hagrid disappeared through the double doors, the crowd of first years erupted into an animated chatter. Hermione turned her attention to the pudgy boy who introduced himself as Neville Longbottom. Octavia only partly listened to their conversation, for that bloody blonde pale boy was staring at her again.

Sticking out her tongue at the boy, she successfully caused him to blush a bright shade of red and turn his attention to his two dark-haired friends. It may not have been the best way for her to meet friends, but his incessant gawking at her made her quite uneasy and only served to increase her nerves. Regardless, she was certain that he didn't like her either after their little encounter.

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." Professor McGonagall had returned. "Quickly, now," she said before guiding them through the now-opened double doors.

The moment Octavia stepped into the Great Hall, clutching tightly onto the arm of her cousin, her lips parted and eyes widened in complete awe.

The Great Hall was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the end of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting, facing the students. The two hundred or so faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight from above. Octavia gazed upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars, shining brightly above.

"It's enchanted, you know." Hermione whispered, also gazing up at the sky that was in fact a ceiling. "It's not really the sky, but it's a spell that mirrors the sky outside."

Octavia nodded to indicate that she was listening, but she only marginally registered the words that her cousin had spoken. For her attention had been transferred to the rickety stool that sat in front of the faculty table, a strange hat positioned atop.

The black pointy hat featured signs of wear and tear, indicating that it was quite old. But that was not the peculiarity of said accessory. It was that it had a face. Not an actual face, like that of a person, but a face formed in the creases and lumpiness of the material.

The crowd of first years stopped at the bottom of the altar where the teacher's table sat, as well as the wooden stool and hat with a face.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," Professor McGonagall stared, her voice echoing around the grand room as she approached the stool.

Octavia wrapped her arms tightly around Hermione's limp arm, nuzzling her face into her cousin's shoulder as the nerves threatened to cripple her. The stern woman ahead cleared her throat and unravelled a long and beige parchment scroll.

"Hannah Abbot." Professor McGonagall called, reading the evidently alphabetically categorist list of names.

The girl with mousey-blonde hair hesitantly approached the podium and seated herself on the stool, the Professor placing the strange hat atop her plain hair.

"Hufflepuff!" The hat declared, Octavia's hazel eyes widening comically as the accessory spoke.

The girl smiled sweetly and jumped off the stool, skipping over to the table on the far left. Banners featuring images of badgers hung above the table that erupted into cheers and applause, the rest of the houses clapping lightly.

"Lavender Brown."

A girl with similar curls to Octavia's approached the stool, Octavia only paying mild attention as she was sorted into Gryffindor. Student after student was called before being placed into their houses by the talking hat. It was madness! Yes, Octavia knew that she was a witch and was entering a whole new world, but a talking hat? Who would have ever thought of such a thing in the deepest depths of their wildest imaginations? A magical and magnificent genius, that's who.

"Hermione Granger." Professor McGonagall called, both Grangers instantly tensing.

Octavia reluctantly released her crushing hold on Hermione's arm as her cousin inhaled deeply. Ha! She was scared! Liar.

The bushy-haired Granger held her head high and strolled toward the teacher, seating herself primly on the rickety stool. The Professor placed the hat atop her bushy mane, silence ringing in the ears of both Grangers as it swayed and hummed pensively.

"Right … Yes, yes, I see." The hat swayed and mused aloud, debating on the house to sort Hermione into. "Better be … GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor table erupted into a vibrant and welcoming applause, cheering and whooping loudly. The Slytherins didn't clap, but the other two houses did in a polite manner. Hermione exhaled a breath of relief as she approached and seated herself at the long table, golden and red banners of lions floating high above.

"Octavia Granger."

Instantly, fear and nausea washed over her small body, her heart stopping and beating wildly at the same time. Her breathing was suddenly shaky as she dragged herself toward the stool ahead, the blonde boy watching her intently. She ignored him though, and focused all of her attentions on not crying in that moment. All she wanted was to run away, return home and lock herself in the comfort and familiarity of her bedroom.

Octavia hesitantly lowered herself onto the stool, her slender fingers gripping tightly onto the edges as she tensed, the hat lowering atop her tight blonde curls. Big hazel eyes glistened spectacularly with dread and terror, the girl chewing her bottom lip anxiously as she met the gaze of the blonde boy.

He was completely silent, watching her with undiluted fascination and interest. His piercing silver eyes bore into hers, a permanent blush on his pale and flawless complexion. She swallowed before tearing her eyes from his gaze and staring down at the hem of her grey school skirt.

"Interesting, very interesting." The hat sang, swaying from side to side. "You have endless loyalty for the few who you love. No courage, I see, but accepting and kind. Quite a cunning steak you have, and such a sharp tongue and mean spirit when provoked. Let's see … You would do well in … SLYTHERIN!"

A huge sigh of relief escaped her lips as the anxiety began to dissipate somewhat, the Slytherin table breaking out into an applause as she rose from the stool. Surprise momentarily flashed over her pretty face as she noticed that the blonde boy clapped vigorously at her assigned house, but faltered the moment she raised her brows at him.

Her jelly-legs successfully managed to carry her toward the Slytherin table. Her hazel eyes fixed on the stool as she seated herself at the edge of the table, sitting alone.

"Draco Malfoy," Professor McGonagall called, the blonde boy swaggering up to the stool.

The hat barely touched his silvery blonde hair before it shouted 'Slytherin!' loudly, a proud smirk gracing his pink lips. Octavia pursed her lips as he strode over to the Slytherin table, seating himself across from her. He glanced at her before she narrowed her eyes at him and both returned their attentions to the sorting ceremony.

"Harry Potter."

Strangely, the Great Hall went silent. It had gone silent for each first year student's placement, but not like this. It was tense and thick, almost suffocating. It was as though nobody was breathing, but only watching intently. Some students sat on the edge of their seats, others leaning over the tables as though they would get a better view if they were a few inches closer.

The messy-haired handsome boy sat on the stool, his green eyes practically glowing from the reflections of the candlelight above.

"Difficult, very difficult." The hat sang pensively. "Plenty of courage I see, not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh yes, and a thirst to prove yourself. But where to put you?"

Harry sat casually on the stool, appearing nonchalant and entirely unphased by the whole process. Octavia could have sworn that his lips moved slightly, but she could have imagined it. Although, the moment that she suspected he had spoken, the sorting hat suddenly declared his assigned house.

"Slytherin!"

A wolfish grin spread across his face as he rose from the stool, Slytherin applauded just as loudly as they did for Draco Malfoy. Perhaps they were important in the wizarding world? For they received the loudest cheers thus far.

Harry seated himself next to Draco, the pair immediately delving into a quiet chatter between themselves. Octavia assumed that they had known one another before the arrival at Hogwarts. Perhaps they were friends already? It seemed to be the case.

Following a further twenty minutes of sorting, Octavia was now seated at the end of the table, surrounded by six other first years. The Slytherin first years consisted of herself, Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott, Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini.

Pansy and Octavia had hit it off straight away, both girls immediately bonding over their shared anxieties of facing the sorting ceremony. Daphne was relatively quiet, perhaps by nature, or rudeness. The boys all seemed to know one another, and chatted casually between themselves. Their conversations only ended when the Headmaster rose from his seat at the faculty table, the entire Great Hall falling into a silence.

"Welcome!" Headmaster Dumbledore said, his voice wise and gentle like his blue eyes. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

Once the strange speech – if you could call it a speech – ended, the Headmaster bowed as a light applause broke out, scattered amongst the students, barely anyone clapping from the Slytherin table. The tables that the students sat at suddenly filled with a feast fit for a royal banquet. Platters and plates and bowls and jugs were overflowing with copious amounts of foods, some that Octavia recognised, and others completely unidentifiable.

Pitchers were filled to the brim with bright orange liquids that smelled considerably like roasted pumpkins, jugs now contained freshly brewed teas and coffees, and platters held everything; creamy mashed potatoes, roasted vegetables, braised ducks, green hunks of steaks, chicken legs and breasts, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, bacon and kidney pie, boiled potatoes, chips, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, mustard syrup, and peppermint humbugs. For dessert, they had blocks of assorted ice cream, apple pies, spotted dick, chocolate gateau, treacle tart, pumpkin tart, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, jelly, cupcakes in the shape of cauldrons, chocolate wands, butterscotch custards, and cinnamon rice pudding.

"Um," Octavia hummed, her wide astonished gaze fixed on the array of foods. "Where did this come from?"

"Oh, the house-elves in the kitchen send it up," Pansy explained dismissively, piling hunks of sweet potatoes onto her golden plate.

"What's a house-elf?" Octavia asked, taking a pitcher and filling up her goblet with orange liquid.

"What's a house-elf?" Harry repeated, arching his perfectly sculpted brow at her. "Are you a muggle-born?"

"Yeah," O nodded, lifting her goblet and sniffing the juice suspiciously.

"That would make you the first muggle-born to be sorted into Slytherin in a century," Blaise drawled, appearing rather impressed.

"Is that a bad thing?" Octavia frowned.

"Depends on who you ask," Harry grinned.

"I'm asking you lot." Octavia said, glancing around at her fellow first year Slytherins.

No one directly responded, other than the occasional shrug or reassuring smile (particularly from Pansy). Draco just seemed to be too stupid to speak. He stared at her in apparent awe and wonder, his fork raised in his hand, hovering near his parted lips. Octavia merely assumed that he wasn't all there in the head as she sipped at the ruby encrusted goblet.

"Oh my god!" Octavia sputtered, slamming the goblet down and wiping at her tongue. "What is that?"

"Pumpkin juice," Pansy frowned.

"That's actually the grossest thing I've ever tasted." Octavia shuddered theatrically, pushing her goblet away from her.

"Well in that case, I'd suggest you stay away from those pasties over there. And that pie. Oh, and don't drink the dark orange juice, or eat those cupcakes over there."

Octavia raised her brows as Pansy pointed at several jugs and platters, warning her off tasting any of their contents. What the hell was the obsession in the wizarding world with pumpkins? So strange.

But Octavia had a feeling that it wasn't the only strange thing she would discover in the new and magical world she had stepped in to. A world full of wonder and amazement, mystery and thrill.

A whole new world.

* * *

 ** _A/N:_** _There will be 3-5 chapters per Hogwarts year, until seventh year. Some things will be canon, others not. Mostly AU._


	2. Chapter 2

A Whole New World Chapter 2

* * *

The memory of her first class was as clear as day. It was a Monday morning, and she had double transfiguration with the stern woman who was Professor McGonagall.

 _"_ _Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said, peering over her spectacles at the seated students in the class. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."_

The Gryffindor Head of House had not lied when she had spoken these words to the excited cluster of students. It was by far the most difficult subject in Octavia's opinion, and she was making no progress whatsoever over the months that had passed. Now in the second term of the school year, Octavia was only able to manage transfiguring a brown rat into a black rat. Most other students were able to transform their rats into inanimate objects, such as goblets or mini cauldrons. It wasn't fair.

Octavia tried, she really did. She tried with all her might, channelling her magic through her body, down her arm and to her elegant wand before performing the spell to complete accuracy. She enunciated the spells perfectly, waved and flicked her wand precisely, but it mattered naught. For in the end, all of her attempts were unsuccessful. She would just have to be satisfied with the black rat, instead of a small cauldron. It was something, right? Professor McGonagall didn't seem to think so.

In fact, the strict Professor had made it known just how abysmal Octavia's performance was in the form of her grades. At present, Octavia competed with Neville Longbottom for the dreaded position of lowest performing student in the class. It was not a thing to be proud of, that was for sure. Octavia hadn't even shown her grades to another student, yet it appeared to be common knowledge that she was failing the subject. Not only was she failing Transfiguration, but her grades sat at fails for Potions, Charms and Defence Against the Dark Arts. If the mandatory flying lessons were graded – which they weren't, luckily – she would be failing them too.

It wasn't all bad though. Octavia was actually enjoying her new school in the wizarding world. She already had a best friend, Pansy Parkinson, and was generally liked amongst those in her house. Those who weren't necessarily approving of her muggle heritage tended to stay out of her way and not make much of a fuss about it. Her grades for Herbology, Astronomy and History of Magic weren't all that bad either. In fact, she was performing quite well in them. Perhaps because she had always been rather interested in the stars above the world. History of Magic was especially interesting to her as it revealed relative information that effected the wizarding world in the present. Such as, the segregations between magical folk and muggles being primarily due to the witch hunts that took place throughout the centuries. Also she had learned that the fame of Harry Potter came down to his defeat of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. It was all very fascinating, and kept her up to speed in the wizarding world.

But if her success all came down to interest, then her dismal grades in other subjects were not explained. Initially, Octavia had been fascinated by charms and transfiguration, but found herself unable to perform adequately in those subjects among others. What it all came down to, in truth, was her inferior magic.

It was a colossal joke. To be a witch from a family of muggles, only to discover that her magic was inferior and weak. It wasn't the greatest feeling of self-worth to have, so she continued to try. And fail. And try again.

"Very good Miss Granger," McGonagall praised, Octavia's head snapped up instantly, a hopeful glint in her eyes. "Five points to Gryffindor."

Oh. Of course.

Hermione beamed proudly at the praise and reward, sitting importantly in her seat across the classroom as a clock ticked away in front of her. The clock on Hermione's table had evidently once been a lizard. Octavia pouted as she returned her gaze to her own lizard that tried to escape the barricade she had constructed around it.

The fidgety little creature was caged in by four precisely placed school books, yet to figure out that it could just climb over the tomes to freedom. For now, it just squirmed back and forth, from one book to another, searching for cracks that it could slip through.

Sighing in exasperation, Octavia gripped her wand firmly and pointed it at the lizard.

"Focus, class." Professor McGonagall said, walking through the line that separated the four-person desks. "Remember to calculate the formula on the chalkboard before attempting the spell. Bodyweight, viciousness, wand power, concentration and gravity. What does that equal?"

A droned sound comprised of all first year students in the class sounded out monotonously. "T equates to; W times C, over V times A, multiplied by G."

The blonde boy sitting behind Octavia swished and jerked his black wand to the left, his lizard humming with vibrations before it transformed into a perfect mantel clock. The clock was impeccable, featuring snake engravings in the smooth wood that it was comprised of. Octavia frowned at the clock before casting him a side-glance. He was already staring at her, as usual, a light shade of pink to his cheeks at being caught. It was almost as though he was trying to impress her and awaited her approval. He didn't impress her, though. If anything, he had only made her feel like crap. Well, crappier than what she had felt like before.

Raising her nose snootily, Octavia sniffed before returning her attention to her own lizard. Aiming her wand at the unfortunate creature, Octavia bit her lip in concentration, her brows knitted together, feeling the silver eyes on the side of her face.

" _Vera Verto_ ," Octavia stated clearly, swishing her wand before giving it a sharp flick to the right.

The lizard hissed, curling up into a ball before it began to shake violently. Uh oh.

"This will be good," Pansy grinned, sitting beside Octavia.

Octavia, Pansy and Draco watched as the lizard quaked and rattled, hissing sounds seeping from its mouth. Professor McGonagall seemed to have sensed trouble, abruptly appearing right in front of them. Just in time to be covered in lizard guts. The poor creature suddenly exploded, Octavia squealing as her face was splattered with its icky insides. Great. It was kind of progress. The first three lizards she had killed that lesson exploded much more violently than the last one. Although the first three lizards were bigger than the last one.

"Miss Granger," the teacher sighed wearily, pinching the bridge of her blood-spattered nose. "I am afraid that I have replaced enough of your lizards this lesson. Perhaps take a break, yes? Study the students around you for now."

"Yes, Professor." Octavia bowed her head in shame, bits of gooey guts stuck in her hair and on her cheeks.

"Good job, O," Pansy snickered as the teacher strode off toward the Gryffindors on the left side of the classroom.

"Let me see you do it, then." Octavia smirked, turning her attention to the pretty brunette beside her.

Pansy scowled before leaning over her lizard and resuming her prior actions; prodding it with her finger and telling it how cute it was.

"You did it wrong," Draco whispered, leaning toward Octavia.

"What?" She hissed, turning to face him.

"The wand movement." He explained quietly, no malice in his silver eyes or tone. "You're supposed to flick it to the left, not the right."

"Mind your own business," Octavia scowled, shame boiling up inside of her.

It was as though he made it his priority to make her feel like shit. Honestly, she was certain that he got a kick out of it. So she did as she normally did. Octavia sniffed, turned her face away from him and ignored the pureblood boy completely.

"You have lizard guts in your hair," Draco whispered, clearly not taking the hint.

Octavia frowned as she immediately began to pick the pieces of lizard out of her hair, her cheeks flushed in utter humiliation. She didn't even have a response for the prat, so continued to ignore him. O had never been one for witty retorts.

Using the sleeve of her cardigan, she wiped at the bits of blood on her cheeks, her hazel eyes watering in shame. At times like these, Octavia found herself wishing that she hadn't received a Hogwarts letter at all. For what was the point in being a muggle who discovered that she was actually a witch, to then realise that her skills and abilities were abysmal? It was disgraceful. _She_ was disgraceful. And her perfect cousin had been branded the 'Brightest Witch of Her Age'.

Sniffing quietly, Octavia's face scrunched up as tears leaked out of her hazel eyes, down her dirtied cheeks. She discreetly wiped them away, bowing her head so that her tight curls would curtain and shield her face. It wouldn't do to have anyone realise that she was crying again. In Slytherin, that was a weakness.

Octavia didn't wish to be considered any weaker than she already was.

* * *

Wiping furiously as her soot-covered nose with a tissue, Octavia groaned in weary exasperation. She didn't think that she'd ever manage to control her magic to the point where things would stop blowing up in her face. Today it had been a quill in charms. It was especially infuriating that she had been so close to tackling the simple levitation charm. Of course that's what she thought before her quill suddenly exploded after lifting a millimetre from her table.

The sound of a flushing toilet filled the girl's lavatory on the second floor, Pansy exiting the cubicle and strolling over to Octavia by the beautifully carved stone basins.

Unfortunately for Pansy, she had been sitting next to O in the charms class, and now sported soot-smeared cheeks.

"You got a little something right there," Octavia smirked, eyeing the girl's dirtied face in the reflection of the mirror.

"Thanks to you," Pansy murmured, wetting her hands in the sink and setting to cleaning the patches of ash off her face.

"So I talked to Hermione this morning," Octavia said as she gussied up her appearance.

"How is your dreadful cousin?" Pansy drawled, mildly interested.

"She said that Draco had a go at her in the library last night."

"Is that so?"

"Do you know anything about it?"

"No," Pansy quirked her brow, meeting her friend's stare in the reflection. "Should I?"

"I dunno," O shrugged. "You're friends with him, so maybe."

"I'm as friendly with Draco as you are," Pansy said, returning her attentions to cleaning her face.

"You grew up with him," O countered. "We're always with that group of boys, so I just thought that you were friends."

"Acquaintances would be more fitting," Pansy said, drying her face with a floating hand towel.

"Then why are we always with them?" O complained, leaning back against the basin.

"Because they're the only other first year Slytherins." Pansy shrugged. "Why do you hate Draco so much? He's never done anything to you."

"He has to Hermione," Octavia grumbled.

"Did he insult your precious cousin's hair or something?"

"He called her the 'M' word."

That did it. Pansy's eyes widened, the brunette turning her head to the side, facing a grim looking O.

"He did not," Pansy whispered, disbelief shining in her green eyes.

"Yeah," Octavia nodded, her lips puckered and brows raised.

Pansy assessed her friend for a moment before sighing and turning off the tap.

"Listen," Pansy began, her tone careful. "I don't know if Draco meant what he said to her or not, but you have to understand something. Where we're from - our upbringings – well, it isn't the most welcoming. Muggles and muggle-borns were always looked down –"

"I know," O interrupted. "I know why I'm not allowed to come to yours over Christmas, and I know why some of the older kids in our house don't talk to me. But I've never heard anyone being called that before, and it's obvious that I don't like Draco, but I didn't think he'd say that word, or even believe it. He's never said it to me, and he's always making me feel like crap about struggling with my magic."

"He's not doing that intentionally," Pansy frowned. "Honestly, you're way too sensitive. I think he's trying to help you."

"Why would he help a muggle-born if he thinks that we're mudb- 'M' words? He obviously thinks my kind are scum."

"I'm not going to honeycoat this for you," Pansy said. "Draco's family are racist. Mine are, so are Blaise's, Theo's and Daphne's. Pretty much only Harry's godfather isn't, and Harry's mother was a muggle-born, so he isn't. I think that it's hard sometimes to forget everything that we've been taught to believe since we were practically born. There is a lot more tolerance for half-bloods in our society. Even Harry is allowed to stay at Draco's over the holidays and vice versa. But I think that has a lot to do with ..." Pansy paused, thinning her lips slight before she shook her head. "Never mind, it's not important. What I'm trying to say is that while Draco may have called your cousin that, it doesn't mean that he really believes what he's saying, you know?"

"Yeah, that's just confused me more."

"It's just a word that he might sometimes use when he doesn't like someone and it applies," Pansy sighed. "It doesn't mean that he believes it. Most of us don't. If we did, we wouldn't be friends with you, would we?"

"If you were brought up to believe that though, why don't you?"

"The Dark Lord himself was a half-blood," Pansy shrugged. "The boy who destroyed him was a half-blood. Power isn't measured by blood purity. Look at your cousin; she's as annoying as a Cornish pixie that ate too much sugar, but she's smart and powerful. She's a muggle-born though, so it doesn't go hand in hand, does it?"

"No," Octavia shook her head. "But he still shouldn't have said it."

"You're right," Pansy nodded. "He shouldn't have said that word to anyone. I don't think he'd call you it though."

"Why not?" Octavia asked, scrunching up her nose.

"He likes you," Pansy grinned. "I think he fancies you."

"Ew." Octavia whined. "Boys are icky."

"He probably wants to kiss you," Pansy teased, nudging her friend.

"I'd actually rather kiss Snape." Octavia scowled.

Pansy gave Octavia incredulous look, utterly repulsed by the claim. The brunette shuddered at the image that assaulted her mind before composing herself.

"I'll never kiss a boy," Pansy declared, flipping her long black hair over her shoulder. "Not ever."

"Same," Octavia smiled in agreement, nodding her head once for good measure.

The clock tower bells resounded through the castle, indicating that their morning interval had ended. Once the melody of the bell chimes ceased, Octavia turned to face herself in the mirror, smoothing out her curls before straightening her Slytherin tie.

Pansy and O grabbed their schoolbags from the floor, hauling them over a shoulder and exited the bathroom.

"Do you think class will be cancelled?" Octavia asked hopefully as they made their way through the bustling crowds of fellow Hogwarts students and ghosts.

"I doubt it," Pansy sighed in disappointment. "It's only drizzling outside, and we've been made to fly in worse conditions."

"Brilliant," Octavia groaned, walking right through Nearly Headless Nick before she sneezed from the strange sensation. "I hate flying."

"It's not so bad," Pansy countered. "If you learn how to fly, you can play Quidditch."

"I hate Quidditch." Octavia pouted. "It's boring."

Pansy grinned at her friend as they veered off to the moving staircases. "Tell that to Draco and he'll definitely not want to kiss you."

Octavia laughed as they jumped from the ground onto a floating staircase, landing perfectly on the top step. As they hurried down the stairs that quickly connected to the central foyer, Octavia and Pansy merged into a crowd of fellow first years, all making their way outside onto the castle grounds. The Slytherin boys joined them as they walked through the doors of the castle.

Daphne was already on the pitch, waiting alone like she usually did. The girl wasn't exactly the most welcoming of sorts, and she mostly kept to herself. Whenever she felt particularly sociable, Pansy and O indulged her for the fleeting moments, but it wasn't long before she became a hermit again.

The flying lesson that day was held on the Quidditch pitch, twenty-six broomsticks placed neatly on the moist grass. Small spits of rain fell down on the students from the grey and cloudy sky, some not fazed by the weather, whilst others were less than pleased. Octavia was one of the moody students, buttoning up her black cardigan to prevent her shirt from getting wet. Nothing could be done to protect her curls, though. They would grow wild and untamed in a matter of minutes, thanks to the rain.

The students tossed their bags onto the grass before standing at the side of their brooms. There was no allocation of brooms to students, but everyone had already established their preferred broom pretty early into the school year. Thankfully, it was one of the few classes without designated placements, so Octavia stood between Hermione and Pansy on the left side, facing Neville Longbottom and Ronald Weasley; her cousin's only two friends. Except O, of course.

"Alright class, you know what to do," Madame Hooch announced, slipping on her leather gloves. "Once you have mounted your brooms, you are to fly through the obstacles above. Try and manage to fly through each of the obstacle courses."

All students tilted their heads and gazed upwards, noticing the levitating hoops and triangles in the air. There were several sections and different obstacle courses, allowing the students to separate and not have to wait long to perform the task of the class. Octavia almost laughed. There was no way she could make her broom fly that high up without it throwing her off like last time. Fortunately, the last time she was thrown off the mouldy old broomstick, she had only been a metre off ground, so walked away without so much as a scratch.

Once Madame Hooch blew the whistle, all students hovered their hands above the handles of the manky old brooms. Some were still in the early stages where they had to verbalise the 'up!' command, but others simply remained silent as their broomsticks soared into their hands. Octavia was in the small group of the former.

"Up!" Octavia shouted, her broom wobbling around on the grass. "Up!"

It shivered and vibrated like always, Octavia stomping her foot in agitation. "Up, you stupid broom!"

Again, it wobbled and rolled, but didn't obey her command. Glancing around at her fellow first years, Octavia noticed that most students were already flying above, racing each other to the obstacle courses scattered high in the air. Only Neville, Hermione and Octavia were still trying to successfully get their brooms off the ground.

Hazel eyes darted to the teacher, noting that she was shouting scolding words at Harry and Draco who were purposefully trying to knock Gryffindors off their brooms. Taking the presented opportunity, Octavia bent over and snatched her broomstick from the grass before kicking off her flat Mary-Janes.

"That's cheating!" Hermione snapped, but Octavia didn't pay her any mind and mounted her broom.

Once the broom was secured between her thighs, her grey skirt crumpled at the intrusion, she took off from the grass and flew a metre high. Her white frilly socks were a little damp from standing on the grass without shoes for a moment, but she ignored the uncomfortable feeling and focused her attention on the task at hand.

Gripping the handle of the broom, Octavia managed to balance herself before rising higher up. Tight ringlets fell down the side of her face as she fixed her gaze on her grasp, biting her bottom lip and trying not to look at the ground below. Whenever she realised how high up she was, that's when the broom began to teeter and lurch.

"Very good Miss Granger! Very good!" Madame Hooch shouted, her voice almost lost in the raucous sounds of the students above and the light rainfall. "I told you that you would get the hang of it! Five points to Slytherin!"

It took Octavia a moment to realise that the teacher was praising her and not her cousin. A proud grin spread across her pretty face as she began to fly with boosted confidence, veering upwards to join Pansy by the closest obstacles.

"Pansy!" Octavia hollered, her voice drowned out by the sounds of the rain and students. "Pansy, I'm flying! Look, I'm flying! Pansy!"

Pansy didn't hear her shouts, taking off at high speed through the obstacle course, winding and weaving her way around the shapes expertly. Draco Malfoy hovered near the first triangle, watching O fly toward the group of Slytherins, a small smile tugging at his lips. She didn't notice. Or if she did, she paid it no mind.

As she reached the first obstacle, 60ft or so above the ground, Octavia's expression of wonder and pride began to morph into one of concern. The broom began to jerk and vibrate, a gasp escaping her parted pink lips as she gripped impossibly tight onto the wood. Her brows knitted together as it lurched upwards slightly, her thighs clenching firmly onto the broom.

Concerned hazel eyes focused on the handle of the broom as she licked her lips and focused her energy on channelling her magic. Every anxious fibre of her being issued silent commands to the jittery broom, trying to steady and calm it. She was unsuccessful.

An ear-piercing scream went unheard through the noise of students and rain as her broom did a complete 360 in the air, Octavia thrown off the flying device instantly. Hurling through watery air, Octavia flailed and shrieked desperately, watching with panicked eyes as the grassy ground rushed toward her.

Despite having relieved herself before arriving at the class location, Octavia almost wet herself from the sheer terror that plagued her. Tears welled up in her horrified hazel eyes as she screeched and thrashed wildly.

A loud grunt escaped her as her tummy connected with something hard, an arm wrapping around her waist and stopping her from crashing to the ground. Octavia dangled, facing the ground as someone held onto her tightly, lowering her steadily to the grassy ground.

Once her sock-clad feet connected with the grass, the arm left her waist and Octavia spun around to thank her saviour. But no one was there. Only Draco Malfoy soared off from where she stood, flying back to the obstacles.

Snivelling, Octavia wiped at her tear-stained cheeks, running over to Madame Hooch. The teacher had her back to her, blowing her whistle as she tried to break up an argument between Ron Weasley and Harry Potter at another obstacle.

Those two boys loathed one another. They were always fighting and squabbling, and Octavia really didn't understand why. Yes, the Weasley boy was a pauper of sorts, but she didn't think that to be reason enough to dislike someone. Deciding against approaching the oblivious teacher, Octavia veered off and scurried over to her cousin and shoes.

Hermione was still shouting at her broom, unable to make it follow a simple command. She hadn't cheated like Octavia had, so continued to shout 'up!' repeatedly to no avail.

Octavia dropped to her bum on the grass beside Hermione's wobbling broom, pulling on her Mary-Janes before crossing her legs. She remained quiet as she watched the students play in the air, Draco Malfoy hovering beside Pansy and Blaise by the obstacle course she had tried to fly toward. The blonde was watching her from high above, blushing as she met his gaze, and turned around quickly.

This time she didn't scowl at him or stick out her tongue like she normally did when she caught him looking at her. She only frowned and observed him with distaste and intrigue.

Octavia certainly didn't like the boy, especially after what Hermione had told her. Even if he didn't possess the prejudices that came with the 'M' word, he had still spoken it to insult Hermione. He had reduced Hermione to tears through use of racial and derogatory slurs. So O hated him, plain and simple.

While Hermione and she hardly got along most of the time, Octavia loved her cousin. She was family. They had grown up together. So anyone who upset and hurt Hermione was instantly assigned to Octavia's 'Prat List'.

Draco Malfoy was at the top of that list.

* * *

Octavia lounged lazily on the sofa, twirling a plain brown quill in her slender fingers as she yawned ungracefully. Her bare feet stretched, her toes wiggled, only inches from Pansy who sat on the other end of the black sofa.

The Slytherin common room was situated in the bowels of the castle, and partly beneath the great Black Lake of the Hogwarts grounds. Due to that fact, the sparse long windows on the black walls provided a view of murky waters, in which the occasional mermaid or Grindylow swam by. Harry swore that he had once seen the Giant Squid through the windows in their first week, but that claim had yet to be confirmed.

The black walls were made of rough stone, as well as the high ceiling, from which round greenish lamps were hanging on chains. A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece, atop which were moving paintings of various snakes. Hisses regularly sounded out around the eerie, yet cosy common room, but whether those noises came from the fire or snakes was unknown.

The black button-tufted leather sofa that Pansy and Octavia occupied was paralleled by another, a coffee table separating them. The crackling fireplace faced the sofas, providing an orange glow amidst the otherwise green tinge of the sitting area, warming the students that sat nearby. At present, Draco and Harry lounged on the adjacent sofa, working on their potions essays, whilst Theo and Blaise sat at the coffee table playing a game of exploding snap. If Octavia wasn't so dreadfully behind on her growing pile of assignments, she would have joined in on the fun game.

Although she was certain that neither Theo or Blaise had finished their assignments either. But they were quite intelligent, so could probably write it in one night, whereas Octavia needed to devote a considerable amount of time to her essays to achieve a passing grade.

Chewing on the end of her quill, Octavia narrowed her eyes at the parchment on her lap, rereading the last few lines she had written. They either made no sense whatsoever, or her mind was a fuzzy mess that was unable to concentrate. Or, more likely, it was both.

Her attention was caught by the Head Boy entering the common room and making his way directly over to the black noticeboard against the furthest wall. He stuck three small pieces of parchment to the noticeboard before turning and strolling over to join his clique by the study desks. Pansy seemed to have been watching the Head Boy too, for she shifted around in the seat before rising and tossing her parchment onto the sofa.

"I'll go," Pansy droned, weariness evident in her tone.

O watched as her bestie approached the noticeboard, reading the newly attached memo that was stuck to the board with spellotape. After a few moments, Pansy returned to the sofa and re-seated herself.

"The new password is 'The Sacred Twenty-Eight'," Pansy announced, her half-finished essay laying forgotten at O's feet. "A reminder to not use love or lust potions on other students, and Quidditch try-outs are on Saturday."

"Eh?" Harry frowned, looking up from his parchment in perfect unison with Draco. "Try-outs? The games have already started."

"The seeker and chaser have been disqualified," Pansy shrugged. "If the second memo is any suggestion, I would say they were kicked off the team for slipping a couple of Ravenclaws Amortentia."

Theo erupted into laughter at the news, Blaise snickering as he reshuffled the deck of cards.

"It said Ravenclaws?" Harry asked, grinning widely.

"Well, no." Pansy shook her head. "But it was written by their Head of House, so it's likely that it was a Ravenclaw."

"Idiots," Harry scoffed. "If you're to slip someone a little love potion, at least make sure you're targeting a Hufflepuff. They're too stupid to figure it out."

"But why would you want to slip a Hufflepuff Amortentia?" Blaise quirked his brow. "Even the attractive ones are as interesting as a white brick wall. Ravenclaws at least have brains and wit."

"Too much for their own good," Draco drawled, sprawled out on the sofa, an arrogant air surrounding him. "All that intellect gone to waste, really."

"True, true," Blaise nodded, dealing the deck of cards evenly between Theo and himself.

Although, Octavia noticed that Blaise frequently snuck a peak at the cards he was dealing. Cheater.

"So what time are the try-outs?" Theo asked, stretching his arms above his head.

"After breakfast," Pansy answered, pulling the parchment back onto her lap.

Octavia watched as the boys shared a few glances between each other before they all nodded in unison.

"You're gonna try-out?" Octavia raised her brows, glancing between the four of them.

"Why not?" Harry shrugged. "I'm a better flyer than anyone on that team. We have a good shot of getting picked."

"You're first years," Octavia frowned. "Isn't there a rule against that or something?"

"Nah," Theo shook his head. "Snape has the final decision on who gets on the team, and he's too interested in winning and rubbing it in old McGonagall's face to care about our age. As long as we're good and win, he'll be alright with it."

"How do you plan on performing well if you're using the standard school brooms?" Pansy asked, scribbling notes on her parchment. "Most are over a century old."

"I'll have father send me my Nimbus 2000." Draco drawled, one arm draped over the arm of the sofa, the other draped over the back.

"Can I use it for my try-outs?" Theo asked, taking a swig from his butterbeer bottle.

"No," Draco clipped. "No one is to touch it, except me. Get your own."

Octavia raised her brows at him, Draco's gaze moving to hers. His contemptuous expression gave way to one of innocence, a light pink tinge on his cheeks.

"You can fly it if you want." Draco offered, Theo snapping his head around to glower at the blonde boy.

Octavia just sneered at him before returning her attention to her assignment. She wasn't even going to bother blessing him with a response after what he had called her cousin.

"I'll get Sirius to send mine," Harry announced through a yawn. "And no Theo, you can't use it. There are only two spots open and one of them is mine."

"Which one are you going for?" Pansy asked, her quill scratching away at her crisp parchment.

"Chaser."

"Isn't your preferred position seeker?" Pansy frowned, glancing up at the nonchalant boy across from her.

"Yeah, but Weasel's brother is the Gryffindor Keeper." Harry grinned wolfishly.

"So?"

"So," Octavia sighed, scratching out a few confusing sentences from her essay. "He wants the chance to hit Percy Weasley off his broom when scoring goals."

"Exactly," Harry winked at Pansy.

Pansy blushed lightly, clearing her throat as she nodded. Octavia smirked as the flustered girl returned her gaze to her assignment, a pink tinge to her cheeks.

Despite Pansy's earlier declaration that she would never kiss a boy, Octavia would wager a bet that her proclamation didn't extend to Harry Potter.


	3. Chapter 3

A Whole New World Chapter 3

* * *

Wearing her favourite pair of blue wash jeans and white converse, Octavia strolled through the grand castle grounds beside Pansy. There wasn't a whole lot to do during the weekends at Hogwarts lately, given the recommencing Quidditch games that took place. The consequence of this meant that the rest of the clique tended to be on the pitch, either participating in the games and practices, or watching from the stands.

As Draco and Harry had been successful in their try-outs for the Slytherin Quidditch team, both earning their respective positions as seeker and chaser, all the boys in their group were at the practice taking place on the pitch. Pansy and Octavia had decided that there was nothing much else to do that murky Saturday morning, so had opted to attend the practice and sit with Blaise and Theo.

While Octavia wasn't particularly a fan of the sport, she didn't mind enjoying the company of Blaise Zabini. He and Octavia had become quite good friends over the first six months of their first year. Yes, he was an arrogant and sometimes pompous boy, but Octavia considered him to be considerably humorous, and quite fun to be around at times. He had even taught her how to cheat in Hangman and Exploding Snap without the use of magic. Of course, Octavia was a witch, so should be able to employ magic whilst cheating, but could barely manage a simple spell without blowing everyone up. Only last Wednesday had Octavia sent Professor Snape flying through the room by tapping her wand against the rim of her cauldron.

Luckily, as she was a Slytherin, Snape didn't punish her too severely. But as his pride had been injured, she had the misfortune of serving detention in the potions lab that very evening. No doubt scrubbing grimy old cauldrons by hand.

Pansy and Octavia walked arm in arm through the grassy grounds of the castle, making their way toward the pitch ahead. As they neared, however, they noticed that the practice had ended, or had yet to begin. The Gryffindor and Slytherin Quidditch teams stood near the stands, seemingly arguing with one another. What was peculiar about the situation, though, was that Hermione was with the Gryffindor team.

Ah. It made sense now.

Hermione was with Ron Weasley, who appeared to be with the Quidditch team, which comprised of three of his brothers: Percy, and two identical twins who Octavia couldn't tell apart.

Approaching the tense atmosphere surrounding the teams, Octavia and Pansy remained quiet as they listened to the altercation. The Slytherin team had their backs to the two new arrivals, and the Gryffindors faced them with varied expressions of ridicule and incredulity.

Oliver Wood had seemingly just spoked vile words to Draco, who quickly responded with insults regarding Wood's muggle heritage.

"I don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families."

"Maybe you should judge worth on talent and pure skill," Hermione said importantly.

"How dare you speak to me," Draco hissed, his words barely audible to Octavia. "You filthy little mudblood."

A unison of shocked gasps echoed through the Gryffindors, Hermione's eyes widening as her lips parted in horror. It wasn't the first time Draco had called her such a foul word, but it was not a term that was heard in everyday conversation, so it definitely packed a punch. A gut wrenching, soul shattered, derogatory punch that left its victims rendered of speech.

Absolute fury surged through Octavia as she barged past Harry and Blaise, storming right over to Draco's back. With all her meagre might, Octavia shoved Draco harshly, her palms connecting with his shoulder blades as he stumbled forward. One hand gripping his Nimbus 2000, Draco spun around to face his attacker, his free hand gripping his wand tightly.

Octavia didn't falter in the slightest as the searing tip of his wand pressed against the dip of her neck and collarbone, Draco's molten silver eyes radiating murderous fury. A flicker of recognition and regret flashed in his glowing eyes, his aggressive stance relaxing quickly. Her upper lip curled in distaste as he blinked stupidly at her, his wand lowering and expression morphing into stunned shame.

"What about me?" Octavia spat, stepping toward him, her face tilted upwards as she glowered up at the prat. "What am I, then?"

Draco blushed as his brows knitted together, his gaze averting to the ground as though he was too ashamed to meet her furious hazel eyes. The miserable frown was almost concealed by the damp blonde hair that fell over his forehead, but she saw it.

Both Gryffindor and Slytherin groups remained silent, watching with wide eyes as the Malfoy heir submitted, not speaking a word in response. Hermione glanced with watery honey eyes between the two, her bottom lip wobbling as she threatened to burst into tears at any given moment. But Octavia only had eyes for Draco, and it wasn't with the sweetness in which it sounded.

Sparkling hazel eyes were swarming and glistening with outrage, shimmers of hurt there to see for anyone who looked. Draco didn't. He swallowed before clearing his throat, his eyes still on the ground.

"You're not …" Draco whispered, Harry watching with a wide spread grin. "I didn't mean it."

"You know what you are?" Octavia shouted, Draco keeping his gaze on the dewy grass below. "You're a slimy cowardly snake! And not even a cool one, like a cobra or python. You're like one of those gross little water snakes that are pretty much _worms_! You're a worm!"

Draco's lips pressed together in a tight line, his sad silver eyes rising to meet her gaze, his brows knitted together as he appeared utterly dejected and downcast. Some snickers rippled through the small crowd, predominantly coming from the awe-struck Gryffindors. Even Harry snickered quietly, his forearm resting on Blaise's shoulders as he watched in a casual stance.

Realising that he wasn't going to respond, Octavia barged by him huffily, knocking her shoulder against his intentionally. She stomped over to her teary eyed cousin, snatching her hand and hauling her away from the crowd, Pansy at their heels.

O didn't glance over her shoulder to see if Draco was watching her, for she could feel his gaze on the back of her head. No hex or barbed words came as she stormed off, but Hermione barely managed to reach the castle before her tears took hold.

* * *

Octavia stood at the mirror in her dormitory, pulling her wild blonde curls into a high messy bun atop her head. Pansy lounged on her four-poster bed against the wall, the ever-silent Daphne perched on the edge of the small square bath in the centre of the room. Octavia never really understood the purpose of the small bath of cold water in the girl's dormitory, for it wasn't the fresh clean water that one would normally bathe in. Perhaps it was more of a décor feature than a practical one?

As Octavia prepared herself for her detention, Pansy rolled over onto her belly and continued to scribble a letter to her parents. No doubt filled with lies about how she didn't associate with Octavia anymore. Pansy hadn't told O about her parents' disapproval of their friendship, but O had riffled through her friend's belongings a few weeks ago and found a less than pleasant letter from Lord Parkinson. To say that they didn't like Octavia's blood status would be an understatement. Octavia could now officially say that she had been called the 'M' word. It had stung so badly that she had cried in the shower, the sounds of her sobs muffled by the stream of running water that washed over her.

Perhaps that is the reason for Octavia's act of revenge on Draco. Not so much the shouting at him in front of everyone on the Quidditch pitch, but definitely what came after. Octavia had ratted him out to Professor Snape, the Head of House left with no choice but to issue him detention as well.

Of course, he wouldn't have given Draco detention had Octavia not informed him of his behaviour right in front of the Headmaster. It was all about timing, you see. For if she had waited until Snape was alone, Draco would have received no punishment at all. He was the teacher's pet.

"Do you think Draco will have the same detention as you tonight?" Pansy asked, chewing on the end of her quill.

"I dunno," Octavia shrugged, eyeing her reflection in the mirror. "I hope not. That'd be super awkward."

"Serves him right," Pansy smirked. "The bigger the punishment the better, I think."

Octavia nodded as she fiddled with the stray curls that had escaped her bun.

"I thought he was going to cry," Pansy grinned. "Honestly, when you were shouting at him, I really did think he would start crying."

"Whatever," Octavia frowned. "He deserved it."

"Yeah," Pansy agreed. "It was pretty funny though. I've never seen him let anyone yell at him before. Normally he would just hex a person for trying to shout at him, except his father of course."

"Well, he better not hex me," Octavia sniffed. "I'm a master at blowing people up, so he should be careful."

Pansy laughed as she nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly with the snootily declared statement. Octavia didn't intentionally blow things up, but that only made her magic more frightening. Pansy was certain that it would cause severe injuries to an unfortunate victim one day.

"Ugh, I should go," Octavia groaned, glancing at the clock on her black wooden nightstand.

"Have fun," Pansy sang, a wicked smirk on her lips.

Rolling her eyes at her friends teasing, Octavia grabbed her wand from the edge of her bed and stuck it into the stretched pocket of her jeans. The same pocket that Hermione had cast an undetectable extension charm on during their train ride to Hogwarts.

"Smell ya later, alligator," Octavia chimed, scurrying through the huge and cold dormitory toward the exit.

"In a while, crocodile," Pansy sang with the response she learned from Octavia.

Octavia exited the dormitory, slamming the heavy door behind her as she jumped down the stairs, two steps at a time. As she reached the unusually busy common room, she released a puff of breath at seeing Draco descending the boy's dormitory staircase closest to the exit, Blaise by his side.

His silver eyes quickly found hers as he came to a stop at the base of the steps, evidently waiting for her to approach. Holding her head high, Octavia tottered on over to the pair.

"Harry Potter!" A sixth year by the fireplace hollered. "Harry Potter! Anyone seen Harry?"

"He's in the dorm," Blaise drawled, jerking his head to the staircase he just stepped down.

"Get him, will ya?" The sixth year shouted. "There's a face in the fireplace for him."

As she walked over to Draco, Octavia cast a side-glance at the simmering fireplace. There was indeed a face in the flames; that of Sirius Black, Harry's godfather. He visited frequently by means of the fireplace. It seemed that he and Harry were quite close with one another. Sirius shot her a soft smile as she waved in passing before reaching Draco.

Blaise had already taken off at a jog up the staircase, presumably to retrieve his comrade. Octavia turned toward the exit as she reached Draco, the blond boy falling into step beside her as they pushed through the heavy wooden doors that were slatted with hunks of metal. They strode down the last few steps after the doorway, coming to a stop by the stone gargoyle.

Two Ravenclaw girls were bickering with the gargoyle in an attempt to gain entrance to the Slytherin common room, the red-head's robes featuring a shiny Prefects badge.

"Hey, can you tell this stupid thing to let us in?" The Prefect asked, glancing between Draco and Octavia.

Octavia quirked her brow at the request, whereas Draco scowled at the girl.

"No outsiders allowed," both Draco and the gargoyle responded in perfect unison.

"Who are you looking for?" Octavia asked politely. "I can go get them for you."

"No, we want to go _in_ ," the Prefect shook her head. "My boyfriend's in there, and it's his birthday. I want to surprise him."

"Sorry," Octavia shrugged. "No outsiders allowed."

"So we've heard," the other girl droned bitterly. "That's a silly rule."

"Well, it's a rule that has been in place for over seven centuries," Draco drawled, grabbing O's arm and steering them away from the two vexed girls.

Octavia yanked her arm out of his grip as they made their way down the corridor, the Ravenclaws continuing to bicker with the stone gargoyle. It was no use, Octavia knew. There wasn't a happy chance in Azkaban that they'd be permitted entry to the Slytherin common room. Octavia didn't know the reason for the rule, and she didn't necessarily agree with it, but it was just the Slytherin way. It was one of those rules that you abided by, without question. Who was Octavia to go against seven hundred years of tradition?

As they journeyed through the dim and dank dungeons of the castle, Octavia and Draco fell into a silence. Neither spoke, and the atmosphere suddenly thickened with undeniable amounts of awkwardness. Octavia truly wished that the silence would continue for the duration of their detention, for she had nothing to say to the boy. He had called her cousin a most despicable word – _twice_. It was filthy, prejudicial and disgusting. He obviously possessed double-standards when it came to Octavia, for he had claimed that he didn't mean what he said the moment she confronted him. But if he didn't mean it, then why had he said it twice? It wasn't a word that was generally thrown around when one was upset or provoked. It was a vile word with the most derogatory of connotations, rivalling that of the 'N' word in the muggle world.

Octavia knew enough about the 'N' word to know that it was never acceptable for anyone of any race to speak it. The word held a vile and gruesome history, so no matter your colour of skin or age or beliefs, it should never be spoken. Just like the 'M' word in the wizarding world. It had an awful history of war and bloodshed attached to it, and centuries of oppression.

When Octavia had first gotten on the Hogwarts Express and journeyed to a new magical world of the unknown, she hadn't thought that it would have been like this. Not for a moment did she entertain the prospect of racism and bigotry existing in a world of wonder. But she supposed that it existed everywhere in both worlds, didn't it? For where there was hatred and ignorance, there was prejudices and bigotries. They went hand in hand.

After four minutes exactly, Octavia and Draco reached the Potions Master's office, Draco knocking on the door twice. No greeting or voice sounded out. Instead, the door opened with a haunting creak, revealing the dank and dull office to the two first years.

Professor Snape stood behind his desk, smoothly rifling through stacks of parchment, not even glancing up at their arrival.

"Take a seat." Snape said, Draco and Octavia entering the office before the door slammed shut behind them.

They both walked over to the only table set up in the centre of the dimly lit room, a hard wooden chair on either side of it. Cauldrons lined the table, small and large, every single one of them as filthy as the dungeon walls.

"You will clean all cauldrons by hand, and are only permitted to leave once finished." Snape said, still not sparing the two students a glance.

Octavia sighed as she plopped herself down on the chair, Draco walking around the table to seat himself in the chair across from her. They both remained silent as they grabbed murky old sponges from the table and dunked them into the largest cauldron filled with bubbly soapy water.

Together, they set to performing their tasks, Draco's sour expression indicating the extent of his displeasure. Although, he did grab the larger cauldrons to clean, thankfully leaving Octavia with the smaller ones. It made his task longer and harder, whilst hers was considerably easy, therefore allowing her to dawdle and get lost in daydreams.

An hour into detention – or at least, it felt like an hour – and they had only managed to clean sixteen cauldrons. It may sound like a lot to some, but given that they had fifty-three more to clean, it was quite the disappointment.

It wasn't until they were working on the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth cauldrons that a knock rapped at the door. Octavia yawned ungracefully as Snape stormed toward the door of his office, his movements almost lost in the ominous black robes that billowed around him. Craning her neck to see who was at the door, Octavia shifted in her seat, Draco leaning to the side to glimpse around her.

Professor McGonagall stood in the threshold, Snape holding the door open with one hand. The woman normally had a natural air of sternness around her, but not in that moment. Her eyes were wide with concern, her tense body radiating worry and anxiety. Her greying course hair frizzed like Hermione's would do when stressed, and her complexion was sickly pale. It was rather startling to see the woman in such a distressed state. Quite out of the ordinary.

"Severus, we have received word on the pro-" she began, until she spotted O and Draco in the office. "Perhaps it would be best for you to come with me. Headmaster Dumbledore is expecting us."

Snape regarded her for a moment before he nodded once and turned his attention to the two students.

"When I return, I expect every cauldron to be clean and placed in the supply closet." Snape ordered, both students nodding. "You may only return to your common room once you are finished."

"Yes, Professor Snape." They both responded in a sing-song tune.

The moment that the door closed and took both teachers away from the room, Draco and Octavia stopped what they were doing at once. Octavia slumped in her chair, blowing puffs of air to remove stray tresses from her face, whilst Draco reclined gracefully in his chair, eyeing the cauldrons with palpable tedium and distaste.

"This is servants' work," Draco drawled, his tone coated with utter revulsion. "And to do it by hand? Honestly, we aren't muggles!"

Octavia narrowed her eyes at him, Draco instantly biting his tongue in both senses of the phrase; literally and figuratively.

Pale cheeks tinged with pink, as they seemed to daily, and silvery eyes softened as his brows knitted together. He kept his eyes on her venomous stare, swallowing audibly before he spoke in an almost whisper.

"I apologise," Draco said, his silvery eyes pleading with the icy girl. "I didn't mean what I said earlier. It just came out, I swear."

"Of course it did," Octavia smirked, straightening her back and grabbing the sponge. "You're mean and a bully. It's how your pea-sized brain works."

Draco frowned miserably, watching as she ignored him and set to cleaning her half-dirty cauldron. "I … don't bully you."

"You might as well," Octavia scoffed. "If you bully my cousin, you're pretty much bullying me. And when you say that word to anyone, you're calling me it."

"I wouldn't call you that ever," Draco whispered, his dejected gaze fixed on her scrunched up face as she scrubbed the cauldron vigorously. "Not ever."

"Ha!" Octavia shouted, tossing down the sponge and glowering at him. "Any time that anyone ever says that word, it is mean. It's mean to people like me. I'm a muggle-born, Draco. So if you call _any_ muggle-born the 'M' word, then you're calling me it too!"

Draco had the decency to look ashamed, licking his pink lips as he stared down at his cauldron.

"If you ever call Hermione that word again, I'll kick you in the … you know what," Octavia glowered, her cheeks turning rosy at the mention of a boy's private area. "I'll do it in front of everyone and they'll all laugh at you. Then you'll know what it feels like to be embarrassed in front of everyone."

"I didn't embarrass you," Draco whispered, frowning at his cauldron.

"You embarrassed Hermione," Octavia bit. "You made her cry and you hurt her feelings. Don't talk to her ever again. Don't even look at her! If you say anything to her again, I'll tell everyone that you peed your pants in detention."

Draco pursed his lips together in annoyance, but remained silent. Satisfied, Octavia nodded once and returned her attentions to the task they had to complete.

"Now hurry up and help me," Octavia grumbled. "I want to get out of here before bed time."

Draco nodded, slipping out his wand, catching O's cautious attention instantly. She quickly pulled her own wand from her pocket, gripping it tightly as she eyed him warily.

Noticing her movements, Draco rolled his eyes, tapping his wand against the rim of his cauldron. Instantly, the cauldron's grime and dirt vanished, now sparkling clean.

"How'd you do that?" Octavia gaped in wonder, her gaze fixed on the clean cauldron.

"A _scrougify_ spell." Draco blushed, feeling a little proud that she appeared impressed.

"But you didn't say anything." Octavia said, her wide eyes meeting his silver eyes as he smiled.

"I don't have to." Draco shrugged, trying and failing to be nonchalant. "Father taught me."

"How?"

"Since I was a kid he's taught me how to do magic without a wand and without speaking the incantations." Draco grinned, looking incredibly proud of himself.

"But you can't do magic outside of Hogwarts," Octavia frowned.

"That only applies when we _start_ school." Draco explained. "And anyways, my father is really important, so I won't get in trouble."

Octavia almost rolled her eyes at him, but found that the envy bubbling inside of her prevented her from doing so. All she could manage was crossing her arms over her shoulder and glaring at his clean cauldron.

"I can teach you, if you want." Draco offered nervously, glancing up at her before averting his eyes.

Octavia's expression of jealousy and outrage softened, her lips parting as she considered his offer. A simple spell was all it was, but one that she was unable to perform without blasting everything to Azkaban. She bit her bottom lip as she gazed at the clean cauldron, shifting around in her seat and swinging her legs.

"Ok," Octavia said after a moment.

Draco raised his brows as he looked at her from beneath his lashes, a small smile on his lips.

"Ok," Draco nodded, rising from his chair and strolling around the table to join her as she stood.

Draco moved the chair away from her, stepping to stand behind the muggle-born. He pressed his chest against her back, titling his head to see the cauldrons over her shoulder. He stuffed his wand into his pocket before tentatively clasping his fingers around her wand-hand and raising it.

He spoke no words, nor gave any instructions as he held her hand, slowly moving it toward her cauldron. She heard him swallow nervously at her ear, his rapid breaths brushing over the sensitive skin as she twitched. It tickled.

She bit her bottom lip and fixed her anxious hazel eyes on the cauldron. He guided her wand and hand toward said instrument, resting the tip of her wand on the grimy dirt crusted rim. Another swallow and tickly breath, but she resisted the urge to squirm and giggle. She still didn't like him, but he had offered to teach her a spell. An offer that she couldn't pass up.

"Don't grip it so tightly," Draco whispered, his breath tickling her ear again. "Loose but secure."

She did as he said, loosening her grip on her wand slightly.

"When you lift the wand, don't lift your hand." Draco instructed, his voice shaky.

"Huh?" Octavia frowned, utterly perplexed. "How else can I lift my wand?"

"Like this," Draco whispered.

He applied pressure with the pad of his thumb to hers, wrapping his fingers over her knuckles. His index finger guided hers to curl around the wand, the grip still loose. His index finger jerked, causing hers to do the same. The movement caused the wand to twitch slightly and tap against the rim of the cauldron, but nothing happened.

"Now do that again, but this time say the spell." Draco said, his breaths rather uneven against her ear.

"But you don't have to say the spell," Octavia mumbled with a pout.

"That took years of practice. You have to learn how to say the spells first."

"Ok," Octavia sighed, rather disappointed.

He kept his hand on hers as he spoke. "On the count of nine."

"Three," Octavia said.

"Twelve."

"Nine," they both said at the same time, right before performing the same twitch of her wand against the cauldron.

" _Scrougify!_ " Octavia shouted, enunciating the word to perfection.

She grimaced the moment the spell escaped her lips, cringing back from the blast of the cauldron. A blast that didn't come.

Slowly, she returned her gaze to the cauldron, seeing that the inside of it was pristine and void of any specks of dirt whatsoever. The outside, however, was still smeared and coated with dust and grime. But she didn't care about that. She had done a spell! She had done a spell without blasting the room and its occupants to the wall!

Octavia squealed in utter joy, jumping up and down on the spot as Draco stepped away from her. He smiled as he watched her bun of curls wobble and jitter atop her head from her excited bouncing, the muggle-born applauding herself as she repeatedly squealed and giggled.

Swiftly, she spun around on the spot and lunged at him, her arms wrapping around his neck as she hugged him tightly. Draco stood frozen in place, his eyes as wide as saucers, his body tense and still, his lips parted and entire face crimson red.

Octavia quickly came back to her senses, pulling away from him as though he had burned her. They stared at each other with pink faces, their eyes wide and blinking stupidly.

Suddenly, she barged by him and sprinted out of the office, slamming the door loudly behind her as she fled.

Draco stood on the spot, having not moved since she hugged him. He swallowed loudly, clenching and unclenching his fists as he stared at nothing with wide eyes.

And then a big, wide grin spread across his pink face.


	4. Chapter 4

A Whole New World Chapter 4

* * *

The Great Hall was bustling with excited energy, students chatting enthusiastically amongst one another, ghosts soaring down the house tables, and platters overflowing with breakfast foods. The first day back at school for the new year at Hogwarts was an enchanting day for all students. Especially for Octavia, for she didn't realise just how much she loved Hogwarts until she spent an entire summer away from the magical castle.

There was no doubt in her mind that she primarily missed her friends. Pansy and Blaise had written frequently to her over the course of the holidays between school years, but as she was a muggle-born and their parents were former Death Eaters, needless to say, she wasn't allowed to visit them at their homes. No matter. They had ensured that the entire clique would be at Diagon Alley on the same day to shop for their school supplies. And as Hermione and Octavia had spent that night at the Leaky Cauldron, they got to enjoy the company of their respective friend groups all the way through to dinner.

Hermione and Octavia had spent the majority of their holidays together, having bonded over their magical abilities and longing to return to Hogwarts. But at Diagon Alley, they had quickly fell back into their jarred school relationship, not spending the day together at all, and instead, splitting up. Hermione spent her day with Ronald Weasley, Ginny Weasley and Neville Longbottom, whereas Octavia had enjoyed the company of her own clique.

Octavia and Blaise had become quite close – platonically, of course – over the duration of the first school year. She was now proud to say that he was one of her best friends at the school. Due to that fact, she was seated between him and Pansy at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall. The others, Harry, Draco and Theo, sat across from them, while Daphne – as usual – sat at the very end of the table. Only, rather than been alone like she usually was, she sat with her younger sister, Astoria, whom had been sorted into Slytherin the evening prior.

Grabbing the silver serving spoon, Octavia scooped out a mass of strawberries from the fruit bowl, dumping them onto her copper plate. She repeated this several times until her metal plate was overflowing before she helped herself to generous scoops of freshly whipped cream.

"Want some strawberries with your cream, Tavs?" Blaise teased, eyeing her white-covered mountain of fruit.

"Nah," Octavia grinned, filling her ruby-encrusted goblet with freshly brewed coffee.

At home, her parents would never allow her to consume the 'adult' beverage that was coffee, but at Hogwarts, no one batted an eye. At first, she didn't really like the bitter liquid, but after forcing herself to drink it a few times in her first year, Octavia had become quite fond of the beverage. As well as somewhat reliant on it at breakfast. Octavia now found that she would be a little on the grumpy side if she didn't get her morning coffee. At aged twelve, it was probably not best to have an addiction, but it could be worse, right?

A laugh at the end of the table caught O's attention, the muggle-born leaning back in her chair to glance at the Greengrass sisters. Daphne wasn't laughing – she never did. Astoria was chatting and giggling away, apparently in high spirits. Those two girls were complete contrasts of one another.

Raising her brows in wonder, Octavia shook her head and returned her now-gluttonous attention to her breakfast pile.

"What's up with Astoria?" Octavia asked, using her hands to munch away at her strawberries.

"What'd you mean?" Pansy quirked her brow, placing strips of crispy bacon on her plate.

"She seems alright," O shrugged. "Nothing like Daphne."

Harry stretched his arms up in the air, groaning as a ripple of pleasure ran through him from the movement. He rubbed his hands over his tired face before grabbing his goblet of pumpkin juice.

"Daph's a bit weird," Harry yawned. "Tori's normal, but bloody annoying."

"She doesn't seem that annoying." Octavia mumbled, talking with a mouthful of strawberries.

Draco glanced up at her as she spoke with food rolling around in her mouth, his lips twitching into a smile before he returned his attentions to his game of Hangman with Theo. Although he was definitely hanging on every word that O spoke, but she didn't notice. She tended to ignore him.

Even though Draco had taught her a spell the year prior, she hadn't warmed to him in the slightest. He was still a prat in her books, and his mean streak had become more apparent to her. He hadn't called Hermione anything cruel since the detention that Draco and O had shared, but he was mean to others. A bully; plain and simple. Even the older kids were intimidated by him, but she suspected that it had a lot to do with his powerful father.

"You'll see," Harry grinned wolfishly, wiggling his brows at O. "I dare you talk to her once. Just once."

"Why?" O frowned.

"Because she'll never leave you alone after that," Pansy sighed. "I said hello to her one time at Theo's birthday party a few years back."

"Yeah, so?"

"So it took me two years to get her to stop randomly floo-ing to my manor." Pansy groaned. "One time I came home from Diagon Alley with my parents and she was _in my bedroom_. The house-elves said that she had been there for hours, just playing with my toys."

Octavia pushed out her bottom lip in somewhat of a pouting gesture. "That's kinda sad. Maybe she doesn't have any friends?"

"She has her sister," Harry shrugged.

"Yeah, but Daphne's not really fun to be around," O scoffed.

"True," Harry nodded.

"It's inbreeding," Blaise drawled, ruffling O's curls to irritate her.

It worked. She scowled at him and whacked his hand away before righting her tousled tresses.

"Inbreeding?" Octavia asked, still scowling at her Italian friend.

"Pureblood families marry each other to preserve the bloodlines," Blaise smirked, watching as she still brushed her fingers through her wild curls. "There aren't many of us left though, so sometimes cousins marry each other."

"Ew!" Octavia whined, gazing at him in complete disgust and incredulity.

"It might be shocking and gross to you," Theo said, his stare fixed on the game of Hangman. "But to us, it's normal. We try and avoid it, but sometimes it happens. The Greengrass sisters are the perfect example of why we avoid it when we can."

"They're inbred?"

"Their parents are second-cousins," Draco said, glancing up at her like a puppy seeking affection. "But their father- well, his parents were first-cousins."

"Oh." Octavia nodded, pretending that she wasn't completely disgusted.

"Does it not happen in the muggle world?" Pansy asked.

"Nah," Octavia shook her head. "It's illegal to marry a relative or have babies with family. And … most people just don't want to anyway."

"What about arranged marriages?" Blaise asked, mildly interested.

Blaise regularly showed an interest in Octavia's heritage. It was one of the foundations that they built their friendship on. Most of the others didn't really ask her questions about the muggle world. Except Draco, of course, but she mostly pretended that she hadn't heard him speak. If she ignored him, he would sometimes share his sweets with her to gain her attention. Expensive and delicious sweets.

"They happen, but only in like countries with different religions and stuff." Octavia shrugged, not really understanding the reasons for arranged marriages in the muggle world. "I think it only happens in the Middle East … I dunno though. We don't really talk about it at home, so yeah."

"We have arranged marriages," Blaise drawled, looking less than pleased about that fact.

"That sucks," O gazed at him sympathetically. "Can you choose?"

"No," Blaise shook his head. "Fortunately, there aren't many of us, so I am not engaged to anyone."

"Not yet, anyway," Harry grinned. "You'll probably get Daphne or Astoria."

"Will not," Blaise snapped, a childish scowl on his tanned and handsome features.

"You never know," Harry winked.

"You're not a pureblood," Octavia said to Harry, stating the obvious.

"Good observation," Harry laughed. "Any more fun facts to share with us?"

"Shut up," Octavia scowled. "I mean that you won't have to marry someone you don't like, right?"

"Exactly," Harry smirked. "I'll never marry anyone. I'll be single like Sirius. He says that wives are mean and that it's like living with a teacher or a boss forever. They tell you what to do all the time and yell at you a lot."

"Mum says that husbands are lazy though," Octavia countered. "They don't do anything and get beer bellies and erectile dystfunctom."

"What's an erectile dystfuctom?" Theo frowned.

"I dunno." Octavia shrugged. "Mum's always yelling at dad for buying things he shouldn't though, so I think that it's something that husbands buy."

Draco and Theo nodded in perfect unison, seemingly accepting her explanation.

"Mail's here," Pansy said, glancing up at the open windows.

Swarms of owls – and a few eagles – soared in through the various windows, all carrying parcels or letters with them. The birds separated in the air, veering off to the tables of their respective recipients. The Slytherin clique all gazed up at the owls, spotting their own amidst the swarm before the birds flew down toward them.

Octavia smiled as Violet – her baby owl – landed neatly in front of her, the others' owls doing the same. Violet carried an envelope in her tiny beak, Octavia taking it from the bird before it turned its attentions to the water goblet. It drank leisurely from the goblet as Octavia opened the envelope and removed the letter.

 _Octavia,_

 _Hope you're enjoying your first day back at school, and that you haven't been mean to your cousin. Remember, we hear everything. Especially myself, as your mother. I just know things. So be on your best behaviour._

 _I'm writing to you early as I was cleaning your bedroom last night, thinking about how much I was going to miss you, and couldn't wait to see you over Christmas already. It was then that I found something under your mattress._

 _Now. I recall you explaining that first year students at Hogwarts were not issued grades on their performances. I remember you telling me that in great detail, actually. You had even said that you wished they had exams, just so you could show us how well you did. Imagine my surprise when I found your report card under your mattress, Octavia._

 _I'm not sure what the grades mean, (they're just a bunch of random letters) but I have written to your Head of House to inquire about that. Professor Smells, I believe you said? An odd surname to have. Well, I will send Professor Smells a letter today to find out what your grades mean, but I'm sure that even in the wizarding world that 'Ds' are not good._

 _Other than that, hope you are well and look forward to seeing you over Christmas._

 _Love,_

 _Mum._

 _P.S. Your dad says hello and asks if you took his chocolates from his secret stash in the garage._

Boring and the same old.

Octavia tossed the letter onto the table before resuming her consumption of strawberries as her owl took off with a hoot of farewell. She watched as Draco folded his crisp parchment letter in his hand and set to opening the parcel he had received. Octavia assumed that it was from his mother, as the woman had constantly sent Draco parcels of sweets and treats during their first year. And she was correct.

Draco removed the lid of the white box, revealing a mass of various sweets and treats inside. Instantly, she spotted her favourites in the box; chocolate wands with a peppermint centre. Draco glanced up at her before removing the tied bundle of wands and handing them to her.

They gazed at one another for a moment, both blinking stupidly as he blushed. Harry snickered at the scene, Blaise quirking his brows, but the others were too preoccupied with their own parcels and letters to notice – or they didn't care.

Pursing her lips, Octavia reached forward and took the bundle from his grasp before pulling them toward her quickly and stuffing them into her school bag. She wanted to be quick and hurried about it, lest he change his mind.

"Thanks," O mumbled half-heartedly under her breath, Draco blushing profusely as he nodded.

Harry peered into the box, stopping Draco from replacing the lid.

"Oi!" Harry shouted as Draco tried to shove his head away from the box of sweets. "I just want a sugarquill, mate."

"Get your own," Draco scowled, both boys shoving at each other.

"You gave her sweets!" Harry complained.

"You can't have any!" Draco snapped, whacking Harry's hands away from the box harshly.

Harry's counter complaint didn't get the chance to even slip off his tongue, for the Headmaster rose from his chair at the faculty table. The entire Great Hall fell into a silence almost instantly, all students' paying total attention to Dumbledore.

"The very best of mornings to you!" The Headmaster declared in a loud, yet surprisingly gentle voice. "Before we begin our first day of term, I am reminded to inform you that the Forbidden Forest is just that; forbidden to anyone who does not wish to die a most painful death. Our caretaker, Mr Filch, has ensured that each common room noticeboard has the updated list of prohibited items for this term, and a request has been made to ask all students to refrain from transfiguring Mrs Norris into a toad." The Headmaster paused, peering over his narrow spectacles at a grinning Harry Potter and smirking Draco Malfoy before he resumed his speech. "To our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you. Now a few words of wisdom; babbity rabbity, and lemon drops."

At the end of the recycled speech from the year prior, the students in the Great Hall resumed their chatter as the food supplies disappeared from the table. Prefects and the Head Boy and Girl all rose from their seats, setting to herding and guiding the anxious first years out of the Hall and to their classes.

"I swear, he's barking mad that one," Theo mocked as they all rose from their seats.

"Yeah," Harry agreed, nodding slightly as he swung his satchel over his shoulder. "But brilliant."

Draco arched his brow at his messy haired friend, Harry shrugging at the look of surprise and outrage. The blond quickly stuffed his box of treats into his unicorn-leather satchel, his eyes narrowed on his friend for saying such things.

"He is," Harry said. "Mad, but a genius."

Octavia nodded in agreement, already munching away on a chocolate wand from her new supply. She swung her bag over her shoulder as they dispersed, making their way through the Great Hall and out into the central foyer.

As they reached the atrium, the group relinked and journeyed down to the dungeons for their first class of the day; double potions. From the slight bickering between Draco and Harry, she concluded that they were still discussing Harry's comment in regards to Headmaster Dumbledore.

"Think about it," Harry began, presenting his case. "We all know that he's a bit loopy, but he can't be a complete crackpot. He invented a new Dragon Pox cure, he's the best sorcerer alive and has more achievements than the Minister of Magic."

"What achievements?" Octavia asked, falling into step beside Blaise.

Draco and Harry sauntered in front of them, the narrow dungeon corridors not allowing more than two persons at once to walk together. Pansy and Theo dawdled behind the group, not paying much attention to the discussion taking place, much more interested in goading the portraits as the Gryffindor Knight ran through to keep up. He was an odd painting, that one.

"First Class Order of Merlin," Blaise answered in his ever-present drawl. "He has six of them."

"Six?" Octavia repeated, raising her brows.

"Yeah," Harry nodded, shoving by a lost first year. "And he wrote that essay on the twelve uses of Dragon Blood."

"Have you read it?" Blaise smirked at the back of Harry's head.

"Nah," Harry laughed. "Sirius has though- he bloody worships the guy."

"Father loathes him," Draco drawled. "For good reason too. He's nothing more than old crazy man. Hogwarts would be better off with Snape as Headmaster."

"Snape?" Octavia scrunched up her nose in distaste. "I think you're the one who's mad."

Draco didn't respond and continued to walk straight ahead through the corridor, but she could tell by Harry's side-glance and snicker that the blond was blushing again. He seemed to be the only person whom she had ever encountered to blush more than she did.

Harry led the way into the potions classroom, the shades drawn and sparse candles floating above to illuminate the dim room. They instantly separated into their assigned pairs from the year prior; Blaise and Octavia in the front row, Pansy and Theo at the back, and Draco and Harry in the second row. The Gryffindors poured into the room moments after, setting up their stations and settling in to the right side of the room. The Granger cousins smiled in greeting at one another before pulling out their tomes and potions sets.

No one dared to chat whilst waiting for the Potions Professor to enter, lest they were issued a detention. Snape had a way of sensing chatter amongst students before he had even joined them in the classroom. Even the Slytherins remained silent as all students seated themselves.

Moments after, a billowing cloak stormed into the classroom, the heavy wooden door slamming behind it. The cloak concealed the Potions Master as he approached the chalkboard and immediately set to scribbling instructions with a broken piece of chalk.

"For first term, we will be learning about the properties of the potent Sleeping Draught before brewing it. If you are all not as dim-witted as last year, we should successfully concoct the potion without much injury." Snape said, stepping away from the chalkboard and tossing the chalk onto his desk. "Can anyone tell me what the Sleeping Draught is used for?"

As predictable as ever, Hermione's hand shot up in the air, her bottom perched on the edge of the seat as she seemed to stretch herself to impossible measures.

"No one?" Snape drawled, his upper lip curling as he scanned the students before him. "What a shame."

Hermione grunted as she stretched her body further, almost lifting herself from the seat. It almost seemed like she was bursting for permission to go to the toilets from her squirming and desperateness.

"A Sleeping Draught causes the drinker to fall almost instantly into a deep, dreamless sleep." Snape said, ignoring Hermione entirely. "Can anyone provide examples as to when this particular potion would be advantageous?"

Hermione's hand was still raised in the air, her other hand gripping her thin bicep to support the gesture, her arm already aching apparently. Blaise flicked his hand in the air briefly, Snape instantly fixing his beady black eyes on the Italian.

"Mr Zabini," Snape drawled, granting him permission to answer.

Hermione scowled and dropped her arm, appearing rather downcast. Octavia shot her a sympathetic glance but her cousin's narrowed eyes were on the Professor who played favourites among the houses. It was no secret that he hated Gryffindor, especially the smart students belonging to said house.

"A Sleeping Draught is useful for those who are injured or traumatised," Blaise answered casually, reclining in his chair. "If the drinker is injured, it will stop them from waking up during the night in pain and allows the healing potions to work on their bodies while they sleep. If the drinker is traumatised, it lets them sleep without dreaming and reliving the events that they are upset by."

"Five points to Slytherin," Snape inclined his head, all Slytherins grinning and ' _yes_ -ing' in response.

Blaise smirked and appeared rather pleased with himself as Octavia nudged him playfully on the arm, smiling at him.

"Can anyone tell me the difference between the standard Sleeping Draught and Draught of the Living Dead?" Snape droned, walking up the wide centre between the two clusters of desks.

Draco raised his hand for a moment, his gaze darting between the back of O's head and Professor Snape.

"Mr Malfoy," Snape drawled, ignoring Hermione's hand in the air entirely.

"Sleeping Draught is a simple concoction that lasts anywhere between six and twelve hours," Draco drawled, frequently glancing at Octavia's tight blonde curls. "It only takes one month to brew, but Draught of the Living Dead takes eight months, two weeks, three days and one hour to brew, if done correctly. Draught of the Living Dead can be fatal if brewed incorrectly, and its effects can last up to a year. Some cases show that even the most accurate of concoctions have slipped their drinkers into comas indefinitely. There is even a wing at St Mungo's just for the comas caused by Draught of the Living Dead."

"Very good," Snape drawled, strolling back to the desk. "Ten points to Slytherin."

Draco stared at the back of Octavia's head, waiting for a smile that she had given Blaise for gaining house points. It didn't come. She didn't even glance at him.

Frowning in confusion and dismay, Draco slumped over the desk as Harry snickered.

"She'll never go for it, mate," Harry whispered as Snape resumed writing on the chalkboard. "You should just give up."

"Don't know what you're talking about," Draco mumbled, resting his forehead on the pages of his book.

"She fancies Blaise," Harry grinned, ignoring Draco's poor attempt at feigning ignorance.

"No she doesn't," Draco scowled, the expression hidden by the book he buried his face into. "They're just friends."

"Thought you didn't know what I was talking about?" Harry snickered.

Draco didn't respond and fell into a silence as Snape stepped away from the chalkboard.

"Page 823," Snape drawled.

On cue, the students opened their books to the correct page, met with the ingredient list for the standard Sleeping Draught. Draco rested his chin on the heel of his hand as he lazily flicked through the pages of his book, his miserable silver gaze fixed on tight blonde curls.

* * *

Octavia listened to Hermione babble on incessantly about Arithmancy as they took their seats in the bright and eccentric classroom. As Octavia was the only Slytherin who took Muggle Studies as an elective, she was allowed to sit with whoever she liked. The teacher was one of the kinder in the school, so permitted – and even encouraged – mingling between the four houses.

The class was hardly the most popular, so there were only nine students that occupied the room; one Slytherin, three Gryffindors, two Ravenclaws and four Hufflepuffs. Professor Burbage, an excitable and friendly woman, stood at the forefront of the class as she waited for the students to seat themselves.

Thanks to this subject, Octavia had lifted her entire overall grade in first year. To Octavia, it was an easy pass, for she knew most of the information taught by the Professor already. Due to her first-hand experience with residing in the muggle world, Octavia had achieved an Outstanding grade for her first-year, thereby gaining an overall Acceptable for her studies. It was the primary reason that Octavia had continued to study the subject, and would do throughout the remainder of her Hogwarts career.

"Welcome, welcome," Professor Burbage greeted with a gentle smile. "It is lovely to see familiar faces this year."

Octavia glanced around at the meagre amount of students, noting that they had all been in the much larger class the year prior. Most students this year, however, had evidently opted to study the other elective, Herbology, as they ran at the same time.

"Now," Burbage smiled, leaning back against the desk. "Do we have any muggle-borns in the class today?"

Every single student raised their hands in response, glancing around at one another with small smiles and raised brows.

"Wonderful!" The teacher declared, clapping her hands together. "This will interest you all, then!"

With peaked curiosity, Octavia returned her attention to the teacher and listened intently.

"Now, as we know, the number of muggle-borns that attend Hogwarts each year is dismal compared to half-bloods and pure-bloods." The teacher said. "Can anyone tell me why that is?"

No one responded or raised their hands in the air. Not even Hermione, who looked utterly enthralled already.

"Well, not to worry," Burbage smiled. "We will learn the reason for that today. Page 113, please."

The nine students obeyed instantly, opening their tomes to the assigned page and reading the title that they were met with: _Muggle-Borns and Magical Heritage._

"Professor," Hermione called, raising her hand as her brows knitted together. "What have muggle-borns got to do with Muggle Studies?"

"Glad you asked!" Burbage declared, flicking her wand toward a magical contraption by the doors.

The projector-like device switched on as the lights turned off completely, the blackboard turning white and reflecting images from the device. Perhaps it was actually a projector that the teacher had charmed to run on magic? Octavia wouldn't be surprised, for the woman was mad for muggles and their inventions, despite being a pure-blood.

The image that was shown on the now-white blackboard featured the ancient and famous wizard, Merlin.

"As we know, Merlin was a brilliant and impressively skilled sorcerer," the teacher said, standing by the image with her wand in hand. "There are many myths and mistruths that surround his legend, but what we do know, is that he produced two children with his wife."

The tip of the wand tapped against the blackboard, the image changing into a family portrait of the legendary wizard.

"The boy was born with no magical abilities, but the girl showed signs of great power from her toddler years." Burbage informed. "Not much is known about the boy, not even his name has been documented. All we know is that he was sent away from the family at aged four and sent to a muggle village. A wizard-born muggle, as we call them in politically correct terms. Otherwise known as a squib by those who are more ignorant on the subject."

Another tap of the wand and the image changed to that of a quaint muggle village in the earlier centuries.

"Most wizard-born muggles are sent to live in the muggle world, even to this day. But it has only been discovered in the last four centuries that the magic could potentially exist within their blood." Burbage explained with an excited gleam in her eyes. "The magic is dormant for some time, according to theory, whether it be two generations or one hundred! It is through the ancestry of wizard-born muggles that _muggle-borns_ come into existence, according to the theory formed by Nicholas Flamel."

Almost every student sat on the edge of their seats in anticipation, captivated by the information. That they potentially had magical blood in their veins from perhaps thousands of years ago.

"As the generational difference from the wizard-borns and their ancestral muggle-born relatives is so vast, it is almost impossible to prove this theory." Burbage said. "Can anyone tell me why it is difficult to trace the roots of muggle-borns back to ancient wizarding families?"

Hermione's hand shot up like a bolt of lightning, Burbage inclining her head at the girl instantly.

"Muggles are higher in population to magical folk," Hermione answered primly. "Perhaps it is due to muggles' extensive population that it is difficult to source a muggle-born's heritage."

"In part, yes." Burbage smiled. "Five points to Gryffindor."

Hermione sat smugly in her chair, but there was a noticeable vexation to her honey brown eyes at only answering correctly to an extent.

"Anyone else?" Burbage prompted.

Octavia frowned as she hesitantly raised her hand in the air, just above her head as though doubting herself already.

"Miss Granger?" Burbage raised her brows at Octavia, allowing her to answer.

"Um," Octavia mumbled, her cheeks rosy already. "Muggles don't really keep track of … like, our family lines and stuff. I don't know who my great great grandparents are, or anything, because we don't really … um … My family don't really worry about where we came from or our heritage. But in the wizarding world, all families keep record of where and who they came from, so it's easier for them to keep track."

"Excellent," Burbage declared proudly. "Five points to Slytherin."

Octavia beamed brilliantly at the Professor, sitting up straight and radiating with pride. It was extraordinarily rare for Octavia to answer questions in class, let alone receive points for responding correctly. So she was quite pleased with herself indeed.

"Only of late have muggles been showing an interest in their heritage, and that mostly only applies to descendants of immigrants. Due to the lack of documented lineage over the centuries, it is almost impossible to trace their ancestry back to potential magical folk. This is because any one of you right here in front of me, could be the descendent of a wizard-born from thousands of years ago. When we are comparing the muggle and magical world, we must understand the vast difference in population," Burbage explained, tapping her wand against the blackboard.

The image on the board changed to a picture of a wizard and muggle man standing side by side.

"The wizarding community in Britain has a population of approximately 3,000, whereas the muggle population stands at 64.1 million. When we compare these figures, it is easier to put it into perspective. As there are so many muggles in Britain alone, the difficulty of tracing a muggle-borns lineage is simply impossible in most cases."

"Professor," Justin Finch-Fletchley said. "If it's impossible to know where muggle-borns came from, how did the theory start?"

"Very good question, Mr Finch-Fletchley." Burbage praised, tapping her wand against the blackboard.

The image changed again, this time to a shadowy pencil drawing of … Octavia and Hermione! They were standing hand-in-hand, the sketch pretty accurate in the detailing of their features, although Octavia was absolutely certain that her nose wasn't upturned. Blasted woman.

"Here we have an image, drawn by own hand, so I do apologise for its atrocity," Burbage said modestly. "This here is an image of our own Granger girls."

Hermione and Octavia frowned at one another before returning their stares to the drawing of them both in school robes. Octavia almost laughed as she inspected Hermione's hair in the sketch, noting that it generally consisted of zig-zagging scribbles.

"Two muggle-born witches of the same family," Burbage explained. "Cousins, yes?"

Both girls nodded, all other students staring at them with palpable interest.

"How peculiar," Burbage smiled. "Two muggle-borns to come from the same bloodline. How is it that you are related?"

"Our dads," both girls answered in perfect unison.

"Brothers, I presume?"

They nodded, Octavia scooting a little closer to her desk as though nearing the teacher would bring her enlightenment and brilliant discoveries.

"It would be the lineage of your fathers that carried dormant magical blood," Burbage explained. "Magic that had awoken in each of you."

The teacher tapped her wand against the blackboard, the image changing to a sketch of two young boys that Octavia did not know.

"Because of the heritable traits of magic, Muggle-born siblings are possible, as well as cousins." Burbage said. "As in the case of Colin and Dennis Creevey, two first years that were both sorted into Gryffindor yesterday evening. Imagine my luck when I was assigned to the twins to explain to their parents of their powers and all about Hogwarts. However, this is not always the case; most muggle-borns will find that they are alone in their powers. It is rare for the magic to pass down to _two_ persons within one generation of a single family. Rare, but it does occur."

Each muggle-born student displayed mirroring expressions of wonder and awe, all hanging on the Professor's each and every word.

"With muggle-borns, the magic that they possess can be considered quite powerful," Burbage said, tapping her wand against the chalkboard.

The image changed to a cluster of pictures, ranging from the four elements and – presumable – muggle-borns amidst the chaos. Some had wands, others didn't, but they seemed to all be in control of these elements.

"It is not always the case, of course, but there appears to be a pattern with muggle-borns," Burbage informed, moving to stand at the front of the desk and lean against it. "More often than not, muggle-borns show the average amount of magical power. However, like with half-bloods and pure-bloods, there are the diamonds waiting to be uncovered. The exceptional muggle-borns – like the exceptional wizards and witches of any blood origin – show extraordinary talents and skills. Notable muggle-borns, to mention a few, are Newt Scamander, Kendra Dumbledore and Sir Nicholas Flamel. Can anyone tell me what these three muggle-borns had in common?"

The students glanced around at one another, no one able to answer the question. Even Hermione looked a little perplexed, but that was likely due to the fact that Kendra Dumbledore was hardly famous. Her abilities and skills were unknown, and truth be told, they had never heard of the woman until that moment. So how any of them could correlate a common denominator between the three was simply beyond them.

"All three could control _one_ of the four elements. Scamander is able to manoeuvre water, Kendra Dumbledore was able to vanquish air, as well as conjure it, and Sir Flamel can, to this day, manipulate earth by causing such things like earthquakes." Burbage smiled. "Very ancient magic that had been extinct for some time. Every once in a while, a muggle-born will reveal these incredibly powerful abilities- abilities that even sorcerers such as Grindelwald, Headmaster Dumbledore and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named cannot produce. To possess the ability of elemental control is magic older than Merlin himself, and impossible to teach oneself. It is a gift that must be inherited for one to possess."

Octavia slumped back into her chair, her expression morphing into disinterest and tedium. The ability to possess elemental control was apparently extraordinarily rare, so hardly applied to anyone in that classroom. If it did, however, Octavia would wager a bet that Hermione would be the lucky one. She always was.

"No one has been reported to have control over fire in over six thousand years, since Hammurabi; the first wizard on record to have the ability to control an element."

The massive copper bell in the clock tower began to ring through the stone walls of the castle, vibrating six chimes to indicate that it was the end of the school day. As the lesson had been so interesting, however, the students slowly began to pack their bags, instead of rushing out of the classroom like they normally did.

"I would like a short essay – no more than five paragraphs – on this theory, whether you are refuting or concurring it." Burbage said as they all began to make their way to the door. "Be sure to address elemental magic in muggle-borns within the body of your essay. We will take turns in reading out our essays in front of the class before discussing the arguments together."

Octavia groaned with a few other students as they departed the classroom. If there was one thing she hated more in the world than pumpkin juice, it was public speaking. Perhaps she could convince Draco to give her a puking pastel from his secret stash so she could get out of it.


	5. Chapter 5

A Whole New World Chapter 5

* * *

Defence Against the Dark Arts would have been Octavia's favourite class if she were any good at it. She wasn't. Unfortunately, Octavia's dismal magical abilities prevented her from issuing the simplest of blocking spells without finding herself and opponent flying through the air and colliding harshly with whichever walls surrounded them. Today, it was the walls of the Great Hall.

Professor Lockhart – a dashing and accomplished wizard – had set up the Great Hall for a duelling lesson that day. Only one long table remained in the room, placed right in the centre and featured a long runner cloth down the middle. The cloth showed the four animals that represented each house of Hogwarts, all second year students from said houses crowded around the table.

Lockhart slipped on his leather duelling gloves as he strode down the table, practically all female students swooning as he passed them. Even Octavia found herself blushing a light shade of pink as his cologne invaded her senses. Pansy and O stood by the table, flanked the boys of their clique, all of whom looked as though they had just sucked the juices from the sourest lemon in the world.

The Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor had only joined the faculty of Hogwarts at the beginning of that year. Professor Quirrell – the former Dark Arts teacher – had resigned after suffering a nervous breakdown when teaching his sixth years about vampires. Apparently he had been attacked by a clan of the blood-suckers a few years' prior and was never quite the same afterwards. Fortunately for them, as the new teacher was ever-so-dreamy.

"He's a fraud, if you ask me," Draco drawled, standing behind Octavia.

Both Pansy and O whipped around to glower at him for such blasphemy, their eyes alight with total offense.

"You're just jealous," Pansy hissed.

"Jealous of him?" Harry scoffed, his expression morphing into a scowl. "Not possible. If we wanted to write lies, we'd do it."

"It's not lies," Octavia gasped, her eyes widening comically. "He's brilliant! He's never lost a duel, you know."

"According to his biography," Draco drawled coolly. "Written by himself, of course."

"You wish you were as talented as him," Octavia sniffed, whipping back around, whacking her loose curls across Draco's face in the process.

The blond pursed his lips in annoyance but made no retort.

"I think Tavs has a little crush," Blaise teased, standing beside the blonde girl.

"I do not," Octavia blushed profusely, Draco clenching his jaw tightly. "I can like a wizard for being great, for your information. I don't have to _fancy_ him."

"Then why do you resemble a tomato right now?" Blaise grinned, rustling her hair playfully.

"Stop," Octavia whined, slapping his hand away from her dishevelled tresses.

"Shh!" Pansy hissed. "He's speaking!"

The boys rolled their eyes in perfect unison before returning their attentions to the Professor on the table.

"Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little duelling session as a part of the Defence Against the Dark Arts curriculum. Its purpose is to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions — for full details, see my published works."

Lockhart smiled charmingly to the students on the left of the table, the girls exhaling dazed sighs as they appeared to be in a trance.

"Our very own Professor Snape has offered to assist me in today's lesson," Lockhart said, Snape standing on the other side of the table. "But fear not! You will still have your Potions Master when I am through with him."

Again, a charming smile, leaving all female students dazzled, including Octavia and Pansy as they swooned.

Both teachers pulled out their wands from their robes – Lockhart's robes were a lovely shade of violet – and approached one another at the centre of the table. They held their wands upwards, from their chins to their hairlines as they performed the opening ceremony to a formal duel.

Octavia and Pansy held hands as they watched the Professors turn their backs on one another and pace three steps away. They whipped around at the same time, aiming their wands at one another, whilst forming duelling stances.

" _Expelliarmus!_ " Snape shouted, a jet of light soaring out of his wand and crashing right into Lockhart's chest.

Pansy and Octavia's gasps of horror were drowned out by the cries of the other female students as Lockhart was thrown off his feet and backwards through the air. He collided brutally with the table before scrambling to his feet, his handsome hair tousled and complexion pale.

"Do you think he's alright?" Octavia whispered, Pansy gaping in horror.

"We can only hope not," Blaise grinned, Draco and Harry snickering in response.

The girls ignored his comment entirely, their eyes fixed on the Professor as he righted his crumpled robes.

"Yes, very good Severus." Lockhart laughed lightly, blushing a little. "I, of course, predicted that you would perform that spell, and thought it beneficial for the students to see how it works. If I wished to block the spell, I could have done so all too easily, mind you."

Harry snorted, evidently not believing the Professor, but Octavia and Pansy knew better. Lockhart was telling the truth, for he was a very powerful wizard and could have blocked the spell with his eyes shut and hands tied behind his back. Obviously.

"Perhaps it would be prudent to first teach the students how to _block_ unfriendly spells," Snape drawled tediously, the disdain for his fellow teacher evident.

"Excellent suggestion!" Professor Lockhart grinned, although he did look a little flustered.

Before the dashing man could select two students to practice and demonstrate, Snape stepped toward the small group of second year Slytherins.

"Zabini and Malfoy, perhaps?" Snape suggested, but Lockhart didn't get the chance to have his say.

Snape snapped his head to the side, gesturing firmly for the two students to take their stances on the table. Blaise and Draco climbed up hurriedly, palpably eager to participate.

"There are various versions of the shielding spell," Lockhart explained with a charming smile. "Today, we will focus on the basic spell, _'Potego'._ "

The teachers separated, taking their places at either end of the long table as Blaise and Draco faced one another, wands raised in the beginning gesture of a duel. Both boys had an arrogant and cocky air about them and they turned on their heels and strode three steps away, creating a distance between them.

"Wands at the ready," Lockhart said, moving his purple robe to drape over his shoulder.

Blaise and Draco took duelling stances, Blaise's wand raised with his arm curved slightly, Draco's wand pointed straight ahead as they both smirked at each other. Octavia and the others pushed further against the table, watching with undiluted interest. O had witnessed a few of Draco's jinxes before to other students, so harboured a flicker of concern for Blaise, shimmers of anxiety glistening in her hazel eyes.

Octavia was so focused on watching Blaise that she didn't notice Draco's frequent glances in her direction, but of course, she never did.

" _Serpensortia!_ " Blaise yelled.

" _Locomotor Wibbly!"_ Draco shouted at the same time.

A thick black snake flew from Blaise's wand and landed right in the centre of the table, rising up in the air in a predatory slither, hissing at Draco. The blond didn't seem fazed. Blaise's legs began to jiggle beneath him for a moment before they gave out entirely, and the tanned boy fell to the ground, his legs wobbling violently.

Some students erupted into fits of laughter at the sight of Blaise jittering on the table-top, but most were utterly silent from fear, for the snake slithered over the table toward Draco, hissing repeatedly as it moved fiercely. Draco glanced down at the snake, entirely composed as he met its beady eyes. The snake stopped abruptly, staring at its intended target before it combusted violently, puffs of smoke and vapour exploding around it. As the smog cleared, the students that watched all raised their brows in astonishment. The snake was no longer there, but Draco hadn't verbalised a single vanquishing spell.

A proud gleam shone in his silver eyes as he glanced at Octavia, but frowned quickly upon realising that she was only staring at Blaise.

"Blaise, get up!" Octavia demanded, leaning over the table edge. "Get up!"

Blaise scowled huffily at his curly-haired friend, unable to control the wobbling of his legs to follow her command. After turning his gaze to Draco who was frowning at Octavia, Blaise smirked and used the opportunity to his advantage. As Draco was too distracted by Octavia's verbal support of Blaise, the Italian was able to issue a jinx, catching Draco off guard.

 _"Flipendo!"_ Blaise shouted, the jet of light crashing right into Draco's chest.

The blonde pureblood was lifted off his feet suddenly and thrown through the air, colliding harshly with the wooden table top at Snape's feet. The Potions Master glowered down at a groaning Draco before he snatched the boy's arm and hauled him to his feet.

Draco stumbled forward, wand raised and aimed at Blaise as he got to his feet, his legs no longer wobbling. Octavia was applauding Blaise's jinx enthusiastically, not even sparing a glance at the furious Draco Malfoy.

"Keep it friendly, shall we?" Lockhart laughed nervously, glancing between the two livid boys. "It's all in good fun."

Neither boy listened to the teacher, and instead focused their irate stares on each other. Draco clenched his jaw tightly at the sounds of O cheering Blaise on, his grip on his wand tightening to the point that his knuckles went white. Blaise arched his brow at the fury in his friend's molten silver eyes, a smirk twisting at his lips for he knew all too well the cause of Draco's anger.

"Don't worry, Tavs," Blaise grinned, his eyes still fixed on Draco. "If I get hurt, I'm sure you'll look after me."

That did it.

Draco's eyes widening marginally before he stepped forward and spun his wand in a brisk sharp circle. Without speaking, Draco fired a string of jinxes at Blaise, the tanned boy deflecting them frantically as blasts of light exploded around him. After the eighth nonverbal spell, Blaise was struck with a small lightning bolt, sending him hurling through the air, his robes, hair and face all covered in soot and ash.

The Italian collided with Professor Lockhart, sending them both flying off the table and onto the harsh stone ground with groans of pain. Draco raised his chin and lowered his wand once victorious, glancing at a shocked Octavia as she stared at the spot where Blaise had been moments before. The very same spot of the table that was now charred and burnt.

Professor Lockhart sluggishly got to his feet before helping Blaise stand, the boy barely able to move without groaning strained noises of agony. Just like Blaise had said in an effort to provoke Draco, Octavia came to her senses and shoved through the other students, scurrying hurriedly toward Blaise.

Draco clenched his jaw tightly as she fussed over her friend, Theo joining her and helping him out of the Great Hall. Undoubtedly taking him to the infirmary for his burns to be treated.

"Class dismissed," Snape drawled, patting Draco on the back to express his approval. "I will update Lucius," Snape said in a hushed tone, only Draco able to hear him. "He will be very pleased, Draco."

But Draco didn't appear to be proud of the praise. If anything, he looked livid and close to tears as he stared at the door that Octavia, Blaise and Theo had disappeared through.

* * *

The classroom was dingy, shadowy and altogether dull. In warm weather, the majority of the class would fall asleep with their faces smooshed against the old dusty tomes for the lesson, but in cold weather, only half of the class would sleep, while the other would fire spit balls at the Professor. As Professor Binns was a ghost, however, the little saliva-coated bullets flew right through him and splatted onto the chalkboard he seemed to always write on, and always with the most atrocious handwriting of all time.

Only the Granger cousins seemed to paying attention in the current lesson, and Octavia could honestly claim to enjoy the topic. Not the class, for the lesson itself was boring; the teacher would speak in a monotonous tone, entirely oblivious to the hustle and bustle around him. But the content of that particular lesson was interesting, so Octavia mostly read through the beige pages of her leather-bound book in time with the Professor's verbalised blurbs of information.

History of Magic had a reputation amongst the Hogwarts students for being a tedious, dull and downright nap-inducing subject. But it was always a popular choice for the students for that very reason; they got to nap.

Octavia sat at a long four-person table at the back row of the classroom, flanked by the slumbering Pansy and Draco, with Harry beside Pansy. Theodore sat by himself in the table in front of them, an empty chair between him and Daphne Greengrass. As Blaise was still in the infirmary being treated for the burn wounds he had received three days ago, he was unable to attend the class. Although Octavia was beginning to think that he was milking his injuries a little.

Blaise's appearance was now pristine and flawless, not a single char on his tanned skin. He was as teasing and entertaining as ever, so Octavia was right to suspect that he was merely claiming to feel pain and light-headed just to get out of their classes for the week. It was working, so Octavia let him continue without a word of protest. Although, she did hope that he would make a miraculous recovery before potions at the end of the week. It would be dreadfully boring – and dangerous – to work on their brew of Sleeping Draught by herself.

Despite finding the topic of the Salaam Witch Trials to be rather interesting, Professor Binn's droning voice was killing her buzz. Octavia sighed as she rubbed her hands over her face, slumping back in the hardwood chair that was impossibly uncomfortable. A soaring ball of parchment drenched in spit caught her attention as it flew through the class, right through the teacher and splatted onto the chalkboard. The chalkboard was already covered in the gross spit-balls, and this one seemed to have been issued by Harry, seated beside a delicately snoring Pansy.

Octavia suddenly wished that she had sat beside Harry for the lesson, for the two that flanked her were fast asleep with their faces buried in the old dusty tomes. Boredom was starting to creep in, and as it was the last double-period of the school day, her mind began to slip into weariness.

Glancing at the snoozing blond boy beside her, Octavia bit her bottom lip and shifted in her chair. In his hand, gripped loosely, was a sugarquill. She could really use the sugar to perk up her energy stores.

Being as discreet as possible, Octavia stretched and leaned over his sleeping form, clasping her slender fingers around the tip of the Zonko's product. Delicately, she slipped the quill from his loose grip, only pausing when he mumbled incoherently in his sleep. Her eyes widened as she stared at him, waiting for him to wake up and catch her. Thankfully, however, he appeared to only be talking in his sleep and didn't wake.

Biting her bottom lip in concentration and trepidation, Octavia continued to pull out the quill from his grasp, taking great care to exercise slow and cautious movements. If he was awake, he would probably give her the quill if she asked for it, but she hadn't spoken to him since he had injured Blaise, and didn't plan on starting now.

"Octavia," Draco mumbled, shifting his face in his book.

Octavia froze, watching him with wide eyes as he placed his cheek on the open pages, continuing to sleep soundly. Furrowing her brows together, Octavia dismissed his mumbles as herself mishearing what he had said, and continued to extract the quill from his hold ever-so-slowly.

"Strawberries," Draco murmured.

Octavia raised her brows as he continued to mumble, most of his words completely incoherent. Successfully, she took the sugarquill from his grasp, bringing it closer to herself as she sucked on the tip and continued to stare curiously at him.

Leaning closer to the muttering dozing boy, Octavia inspected him interestedly. He was actually quite the handsome sleeper, she realised. His pink lips were parted slightly as he breathed evenly, his face totally relaxed. Long eyelashes rested against the smooth pale skin beneath his eyes, his defined jawline reflecting the candlelight above. Light blonde hair was swept to the side by gravity, brushing over his left eyebrow, and his features were not twisted into his usual frowns, sneers or scowls. He resembled a peaceful and beautiful angel of sorts.

Not that she cared or anything. Boys were super gross.

"She's pretty," Draco slurred, his plump lips moving marginally.

"Who's pretty?" Octavia whispered between sucks on the sugarquill.

"Octavia," Draco grumbled, his brows furrowing briefly.

"Is Octavia the prettiest girl in the world?" Octavia asked in hushed tones, a smile tugging at her plump pink lips.

"Yeah," Draco nodded sluggishly, his lips mirroring her small smile.

"Do you like Octavia?" She whispered, her hazel eyes glinting with malice.

"Mmh," Draco hummed in the affirmative.

"You should give Octavia all of your chocolate wands and sugarquills if you like her," Octavia whispered, grinning widely at his relaxed features. "Put them in her bag, ok?"

Draco nodded slowly, the pages of his tome crinkling from the movement. "Ok."

Octavia beamed with pride, straightening herself and forgetting all about the sleeping boy. She turned her face to the side, blushing as Harry wiggled his brows at her, the half-blood evidently having observed her little scheme.

"I won't tell if you share them with me," Harry grinned, leaning back in his chair casually.

"I'll give you one of each," Octavia bargained, narrowing her eyes at the arrogant boy.

"Half." Harry said, grinning widely.

"A quarter." Octavia stated, presenting no wiggle room with her firm tone.

Harry considered her offer for a moment before he nodded and stuck out his hand. Octavia and Harry both nodded firmly as they shook hands before returning their attentions to the teacher.

Of course, Octavia actually listened to the dull ghost, whereas Harry proceeded to fire spit-balls at him.


	6. Chapter 6

A Whole New World Chapter 6

* * *

They made their way through the crowds of exuberant students that departed the Great Hall after lunch. Blaise and Octavia walked side by side, Draco and Harry leading the way, whilst Pansy and Theo dawdled behind the others. Confetti scattered the ground much to everyone's annoyance and the paintings on the walls sang love ballads relentlessly, the sounds of their voices bringing great vexation to the majority of students. Mostly the males of the student body were irked by the love celebrations around the castle that day, but most younger girls joined them in their annoyance.

As they were younger, the girls didn't really care for Valentine's Day, nor its celebratory atmosphere of love and crushes. In saying that, Octavia had secretly sent a Valentine's Day card to her Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Lockhart. She suspected that Pansy had done the same, but didn't speak of it. It was an embarrassing matter, so they just pretended to not harbour soft spots for the dashing Professor.

Octavia and Blaise followed Draco and Harry up the stone steps as they made their way to the classroom on the fifth floor. Defence Against the Dark Arts was an absolute nightmare in O's opinion, and she truly struggled with the class. But it wasn't all bad, for she sat with Pansy in that class and mostly copied from her friend's notes between staring at the dashing teacher and frequent daydreams. That day, her daydreams generally consisted of Professor Lockhart saving her from a werewolf, then proceeding to tell her how special and talented she was, and writing a book about her grand magical abilities. The usual kind of daydream.

The six second year Slytherins jumped onto the staircase right before it began to separate from the foyer and journey upwards passed several levels. Once it connected with the main corridor on the fifth floor, they all hurried off before it decided to move again. Those staircases had a mind of their own at times.

"Coming to the game on Saturday?" Blaise asked, draping an arm over O's shoulders.

"Do I ever?" Octavia scoffed, evidently responding in the negative.

"What if I told you," Blaise said casually, his other hand readjusting the strap of his satchel, "that I have been offered the commentator position?"

"I'd call you a liar," Octavia said. "Lee Jordan is the commentator."

Draco glanced over his shoulder at the pair, clenching his jaw as he noticed Blaise's arm over O's shoulder before turning back to face the corridor they veered onto.

"He decided to resign," Blaise smirked, his dark eyes fixed on Draco's tense back before moving his gaze to his balled up fists.

Octavia eyed Blaise intently as they walked down the corridor, her eyes narrowed with palpable suspicion.

"Problem, Tavs?" Blaise winked down at her.

"Only that you're a liar," Octavia smirked.

"I'm no liar," Blaise grinned. "Jordan did resign, but I gave you no reason as to why or how he came to that decision."

"Did you bribe him?" Octavia asked without judgement.

" _Persuade_ would be a more fitting word," Blaise laughed, removing his arm from her shoulders as they entered the classroom.

All evidence of Blaise's light mood vanished from his expression instantly. The classroom that they had entered was simply atrocious!

"What in Merlin's name …" Blaise gawked as he and Octavia made their way to their assigned seats.

"I think a fairy threw up in here," Pansy mused, joining Octavia at the middle desk, Harry and Draco seating themselves at the desk in front of them.

"I think a whole tribe of fairies died and exploded in here," Theo countered, plopping down at his seat at the table behind the girls, Blaise by his side.

Octavia raked her astonished gaze around the classroom, almost blinded by the pink glittering walls and floating hearts. They were not cardboard cut-outs, but actual bloodied beating hearts. The organs. There was nothing romantic or Valentine's about that!

Every desk was covered in pink tablecloths, glitter and spots of blood from the hearts that floated above, and the chairs giggled incessantly when one shifted in their seat. Octavia wasn't a fan of Valentine's Day before, but now she completely despised it! It was madness in the classroom.

"Take your seats, everyone! Hurry, hurry!" The voice of their teacher sang out.

It took the students a few moments to spot him against the wall, for he pretty much blended in entirely. His robes were of the exact same glittery shade as the decorated surroundings, providing him with the most headache-inducing camouflage ever. Octavia raised her brows at the man, finding that he perhaps wasn't as handsome as she had originally thought. That may have something to do with the pink nail polish he adored, though.

Large lurid flowers danced through the rows of desks, singing in high-pitched squeaks and shedding petals frequently. The blood droplets that fell from the floating hearts formed into love-heart shapes once landing on an object or surface of any kind. For instance, Octavia was unfortunate enough to have these shaped blood drops decorating her curls within minutes of entering the classroom.

"Fret not, dear children," Lockhart grinned, his pearly white teeth shining through the clouds of glitter and pink. "The hearts are Zonko's products; little more than comedic decorations."

"Comedic?" Ron Weasley repeated in palpable disbelief. "What's funny about being bled on by beating hearts?"

"Ah," Lockhart clapped his hands together, resting his chin on his fingertips. "We will soon see, won't we?"

"Did you send anyone a card?" Theo asked Blaise, Octavia turning around to listen in.

"No," Blaise smirked arrogantly. "I receive cards; I don't send them."

"I wonder how you get around with a head that big," Octavia whispered as Professor Lockhart addressed the class.

"It's tough, but I manage," Blaise grinned.

Octavia rolled her eyes as Blaise winked at her, turning around in her seat to face the talking teacher. The doors to the classroom burst open abruptly, several dwarves dressed as cupids fluttering into the room. Students gaped in horror as the three cupids flew through the air, searching for their intended victims apparently. Harry and Draco were twisted around in their seats, watching the cupids cautiously. But Draco continued to glance at Octavia with a light blush on his cheeks.

"Oh God," Octavia whispered as a cupid spotted her and soared right in her direction.

"Octavia Granger!" The old gruff dwarf dressed in wings and white robes declared.

All students watched her in complete amusement; all except Harry Potter and Dean Thomas who had each gotten their own cupid. The other cupids appeared to be waiting for O's to start. But start what?

Oh. Oh no.

"Ahem!" The middle-aged dwarf cleared his throat, strumming his chubby fingers against the strings of a miniature harp. "Let me present the serenade, 'Octavia Granger, My Valentine' by A Secret Admirer."

If possible, Octavia went snow-white and bright red at the same time as she sank back into her chair, her hazel eyes wide with horror and fixed on the cupid that floated above her.

"I love her hair and her eyes,

But I do loathe her cries.

When happy she does giggle,

When nervous her feet will wiggle.

The Sir I owe it to, has said to you

I will be true, so when I think of you,

I take my time.

Sir Valentine,

Without whom,

You would not be mine."

With an expression of complete horror, Octavia squealed as an explosion of confetti and glitter covered her entirely, seemingly coming from nowhere. Laughter erupted through the classroom, all at her expense, as Professor Lockhart applauded the serenade approvingly.

"Wonderful, absolutely wonderful!"

"Harry Potter!" The second cupid announced, laughter dying down as everyone turned their attentions to the boy in question.

Although Draco was still blushing and staring at Octavia as she buried her mortified face in her shaky hands. Draco strangely looked a little downcast at her palpable displeasure.

"From your secret admirer, I present to you 'Harry Potter; The Divine One.'," the cupid declared before singing in an atrocious voice that matched that of Octavia's poor singing abilities.

"His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,

His hair is as dark as a blackboard.

I wish he was mine, he's really divine,

The hero who conquered the Dark Lord."

Harry threw a parchment scroll at his cupid before he could be showered in glittery confetti like Octavia. The cupid scowled at him before soaring off, only partially completing his Valentine serenade, muttering something about petulant children under his breath.

"Dean Thomas!" The third and final cupid declared, Octavia shoving the mass of confetti off her desk. "From Parvati Patil!"

Everyone turned to face the Indian girl, snickering as she burned crimson, mortified by her own doing.

"Your dark chocolate skin,

Always makes me grin,

And that curly black hair,

Steals all the air,

From my lungs, it's true.

So without further ado,

I will say to you;

Like fire and floo,

I belong with you."

Another blast of confetti and glitter erupted at the close of the serenade, covering a handful of Gryffindors entirely. Oh. That's why there were bleeding hearts- they contained the confetti and glitter that exploded onto the students.

No one was laughing anymore. The Gryffindors were annoyed and being covered in the remnants of the explosion, and the Slytherins were upset by the cupids that two of their own had received. Also, Blaise looked a little put out that he hadn't received one, but he had already received two in first period alone. Such a sook.

For some reason, Draco looked completely dejected as he slumped over his desk.

Professor Lockhart, on the other hand, was almost jumping on the spot with excited glee. He was practically giddy at the serenades he had witnessed, and deemed it appropriate to use the special day to present the class with a pop-quiz.

All the questions, however, seemed to centre around his biography, _Magical Me._

Octavia didn't even bother trying to answer his ridiculous questions, finding that he was quite unappealing that day. Also, her attention was fixed on Draco as he rested his chin on the heel of his hand, his free hand picking at the pink material on the desk.

Puckering her lips in confusion at his gloomy state, Octavia dismissed the strange stir of concern inside of her and tried to pay attention to the teacher.

* * *

Octavia slumped over the coffee table by the crackling fire, feeling the heat of the flames burning at the right side of her body. Her legs stretched out, her bare feet fidgeting occasionally as she chewed the tip of her quill in concentration. Pansy sat beside her, working on the same Ancient Runes assignment as she, Draco and Harry sprawled out on the sofa in front of them. Blaise napped on the rough rug by the fireplace, little more than a two feet away from O, and Theo had retired to bed for the night.

It was quite the difficult task to write assignments and essays in the common room following the excitable day in the castle. Most of the older students in the common room were buzzing around with Valentine's cards, and others were snogging each other senseless in the shadows of the dimly lit room. Octavia, however, couldn't care less about Valentine's Day, especially since she had endured the utter humiliation of receiving a serenade in the middle of class earlier that day. The more she ignored the sickening displays of love and affection around her, the quicker she would forget the embarrassing experience. She hoped.

"Hey, O." Pansy said, pushing her open tome toward her on the coffee table. "Do you know what that symbol is?"

Octavia leaned toward the book, her gaze moving to the cluster of lines and squiggles at Pansy's fingertip.

"Nope," Octavia said, returning to her own assignment. "But if you figure it out, let me know. I left that question blank."

"What is it?" Draco asked, looking up from his transfiguration essay.

Pansy showed him the symbol on the tome as he leaned forward. He took one look at it before making himself comfortable on the button-tufted leather couch.

"It's the sadhe," Draco drawled, briefly glancing at Octavia as she listened. "It means to search or hunt for something. Mostly used in reference to water."

"Like fishing?" Octavia frowned, tilting her head to the side.

"Yes," Draco smiled slightly, gazing at her from beneath his lashes. "Although it is primarily used in darker context than that."

"Like what?" Pansy asked, scribbling the information down on her parchment as O did the same.

"Like hunting merfolk and killing them," Draco shrugged. "Or searching for lost treasures from myths; usually dark artefacts."

The girls nodded in perfect unison as they scribbled down exactly what Draco had said, word for word.

"Thanks," Octavia said distractedly, moving on to her next question.

Draco's cheeks turned rosy as he nodded marginally at the girl who had already forgotten his existence again.

Theo appeared at the sitting area, his vexed eyes puffy and sleepy, carrying a scrunched up envelope in his hand.

"Here," Theo grumbled, tossing the envelope at Draco who caught it expertly. "Your owl just dropped this off."

"Thought you were asleep," Pansy said, glancing up as Theo dropped himself to the ground beside a sleeping Blaise.

"I was," Theo groaned, moving to sprawl out by the heat of the fireplace. "The Bloody Baron has decided to make our dormitory his new duelling room."

"Oh, you're joking," Harry exclaimed. "We only just got rid of him!"

"Yeah, well, he's back," Theo grumbled. "That bloody Gryffindor Knight is in the portraits of our dorm too, so it's damn near impossible to get to sleep through the shouting match going on."

Octavia gave Theo a look of pity before moving her gaze to Draco. He was the one who had gotten rid of the Baron a few weeks ago by use of a powerful Banishing Charm. Octavia of course hadn't been in the room when it occurred, but Blaise had said that Draco had woken up to the Baron fighting his trunk before he blasted him from the room in annoyance. Apparently, Draco's trunk was now covered in marks and dents left by the Baron's sword, despite the weapon being made of a vapour-like substance.

However, Draco was not paying the slightest bit of attention to the conversation happening around him. His brows were knitted together and his jaw was clenched tightly as he read the letter Theo had given him. Draco appeared to be quite troubled as he finished reading the letter and handed it Harry.

Harry snatched the letter, evidently annoyed by the news of the Baron residing in the dormitory again, and fixed his spectacles before reading the letter. All annoyance and irritation gave way to a look of dismay as his eyes darted around the parchment in his hand, Draco watching him read it, equally as uneasy. Harry swallowed as he lowered the letter, sharing a look with Draco as they communicated silently.

Octavia watched the odd exchange before Harry scrunched up the letter into a ball and tossed it into the flames of the fireplace. She didn't watch as the parchment burned to ash, and instead, glanced curiously between the two boys on the sofa.

"Was it your dad?" Theo asked, his forearm draped over his eyes as he relaxed.

"It was," Draco said bitterly, he and Harry still sharing a significant look.

"Did he say anything about you staying at school over the Easter holidays?" Theo asked.

"He said no." Draco drawled coolly, both he and Harry averting their darkened eyes to their essays. "Father has demanded that Harry and I return to our homes for the break."

"Eh?" Theo frowned, moving his arm and frowning at Draco. "Since when did your dad start dictating what Harry does?"

Draco clenched his jaw, Harry tensing slightly as they remained quiet. Theo raised his brows at their odd behaviour before shrugging and resuming his little nap by the fireplace.

Octavia frowned deeply as she glanced between Harry and Draco, noticing the concern swarming in their darkened eyes. She didn't know if they were upset or angry, to be honest. Perhaps both.

A part of her wanted to make sure that Draco wasn't upset, but she'd be damned before she asked him outright. So, of course, she went about it the Slytherin way.

"Draco?" Octavia said, gazing at the blond expectantly.

He didn't even look at her. His stare remained on his essay, but she was certain that his thoughts were elsewhere.

"Draco." Octavia stated firmly, getting no response for the second time.

She glanced at Harry who also appeared to be lost in his thoughts, neither of them realising that she was speaking.

"Draco, I need help with this," Octavia said loudly, tapping her finger against her book of runes.

Nothing. He didn't even flinch. He only frowned at his essay, his hand grasping his quill much too tightly.

"Helloooo," Octavia sang, clicking her fingers to gain his attention.

He sat still like a statue, completely oblivious. She had never been ignored by him before. It was really quite infuriating.

"Draco!" Octavia barked.

"Fucksake! WHAT?!" Draco bellowed, his molten silver eyes snapping up to her gaze.

The sheer loudness and aggressiveness of his voice caused Blaise to jolt awake, groggily glancing around him as sleep slowly slithered out of his fuzzy mind. Theo raised his brows in shock and propped himself up on his elbows at he stared at the livid blond boy. Harry didn't seem too surprised, but thinned his lips as he glanced between Draco and Octavia. Pansy, however, looked rather comical in her gaping expression; comical if anyone was in a humorous mood. They weren't.

Octavia blinked stupidly at Draco as recognition flashed in his silver eyes, his lips parting, an expression of regret morphing at his features. As the shock slipped away from her, Octavia's bottom lip trembled slightly, her hazel eyes glued to his softening gaze. Frowning in confusion, Octavia quickly gathered her things from the coffee table and scrambled to her bare feet before the others could see the tears that welled up in her eyes.

"Octavia," Draco called out as she scurried away, the blond pure-blood evidently conflicting in going after her or not.

He was too late, for Pansy swiftly gathered her own belongings and went after her friend, but not before shooting Draco a concerned glance. Draco didn't even see it; his silver eyes were fixed on the staircase that Octavia had disappeared down.

"Nice going," Blaise spat before laying back down on the rug.

Draco either didn't hear him or ignored him. He just continued to stare at the staircase, his expression entirely miserable.


	7. Chapter 7

A Whole New World Chapter 7

* * *

Side by side, Octavia and Blaise ran through the corridors of the Slytherin Dungeons frantically. The blasted poltergeist, Peeves, had encountered them on the second floor between classes, catching them in the act. It wasn't so bad; Blaise had only convinced Octavia to assist him in scorching the Gryffindor Knight's portrait, for the painting was really quite annoying. Apparently it was still preventing Blaise from getting a good night's sleep, even into the second term of third year. Octavia had assisted her friend, casting a simple jinx on the portrait, only to have it erupt into flames.

After Blaise had successfully doused the fire, both of them satisfied at teaching the shouting portrait a lesson, Peeves had floated right through the wall. Of course, he swiftly set to attack the two third year Slytherins with dungbombs. For that very reason, Octavia and Blaise were ten minutes late to the only class that one should never be late for: Potions.

The heavy sounds of their rapid footsteps bounding down the corridor echoed against the stone walls of the dungeons. Their harsh breaths ripped through the air, O's curls billowing behind her as she sprinted beside Blaise. While they were Slytherins, and the Potions Master tended to favour students of his own house, it was still a risky thing to be late to Snape's classes. They may have points docked for their tardy arrival, or worse, detention.

The two Slytherins came skidding to a halt before they scrambled down an adjacent corridor, clutching their potions books in their arms.

"Ew!" Octavia screeched suddenly, Blaise stumbling to stop in his tracks.

Octavia was glowering down at her right foot, clad in patent leather Mary-Janes, as though the shoe had slapped her mother. He watched impatiently as she raised the foot and pressed it against the wall, scraping the sole against the jagged stones.

"What the hell, Tavs?" Blaise exasperated. "Hurry up!"

"I stepped on a spider," Octavia shuddered, wiping its gooey guts from her shoe, smearing the insides of the crushed spider against the wall.

"I don't care," Blaise snapped, grabbing her arm and yanking her away from the wall.

Octavia scowled at him but he didn't pay her any mind. Gripping her arm tightly, Blaise hauled her down the corridor, resuming his rapid pace as she scurried beside him. They both came to stop by the closed wooden door that was slatted with metal, rather fitting for a door in the dungeons. It would be foreboding to anyone who had not attended the school for over two years, as would the room that it led to.

Although, Octavia still felt mild unease before entering the potions classroom, but that may have something to do with the ever-intimidating Potions teacher.

Both Octavia and Blaise quickly righted their appearances that were dishevelled from their interactions with the resident poltergeist.

"You stink," Octavia said, scrunching up her nose at Blaise.

"That's just your hair Tavs," Blaise smirked, pulling out his wand.

Octavia did her best to tame her wild tight curls as Blaise issued a fragrance spell, covering up the putrid aroma that they both oozed due to the dungbombs they had been attacked with.

"How do I look?" Octavia asked as he stuffed his wand back into his trousers.

"Like you've never seen a comb in your life," Blaise grinned.

Before she could respond, Blaise pushed open the door to the potions classroom, gaining the attention of the students and Professor inside. Snape stood by the blackboard as all students worked on their potions in assigned pairs, the stench of the various bubbling cauldrons invading their senses instantly.

"Sorry, Sir." Octavia muttered as she and Blaise hurried over to their desk. "Peeves attacked us-"

"I care not for your feeble excuses, Miss Granger." Snape drawled, whipping his robes to the side before he strode toward their desk. "I do not tolerate tardiness in my class, and expect that it will not occur again, am I understood?"

"Yes, Professor," they both said in perfect unison.

"You have precisely four minutes to add the linchworms to your potion," Snape advised in a cold tone, his black beady eyes moving between the two students. "Should you perform this task a moment after, your entire potion will be useless and you will both incur fails."

"Yes, Professor," they droned in response.

Snape gave them one last lingering glower before he stormed off toward the Gryffindors on the left side of the classroom. Presumably to intimidate Neville Longbottom or insult his potion. It seemed to be the Professor's favourite pastime.

Blaise hurried off the store cupboard, in order to receive the required ingredients in a timely fashion, as Octavia pulled out her textbook and opened it to the correct page. Flicking her mass of tresses over her shoulder, she quickly skimmed over the page in her textbook, reading the listed steps they were to perform in that lesson.

Blaise arrived at the table, carrying a tray of ingredients and vials. He placed them beside the bubbling cauldron as Octavia pulled out her wand.

"Woah," Blaise said, placing his hand on her arm to prevent her from using her wand. "Maybe I should do it and you can just read out the instructions."

Octavia huffed in annoyance, but relented and stuffed her wand back into her robe pocket. Leaning over her open textbook, Octavia quickly scanned over the instructions.

"Add a splash of cowbane and tap your wand to the rim of the cauldron on the left side once, and twice on the right side." Octavia said as she read the appropriate step aloud.

Blaise opened the container of cowbane, scooping out a small amount before tossing the substance into the bubbling brew, creating a miniscule splash. He then proceeded to follow the rest of the step, tapping his wand on the correct spots of the cauldron.

"Done." Blaise said, waiting for the next step.

"Two linchworms in the centre of the cauldron." Octavia droned.

Blaise unscrewed the lid of flopping and slithering worms, unceremoniously snatching two of the slimy creatures and tossing them into the cauldron.

"Add a dash of leech juice, then lower the flames beneath the cauldron to six millimetres and a quarter."

The Italian Slytherin uncorked the small vial of leech juice, flicking his wand in its direction. A drop of leech juice came rolling out of the vial and dashed toward the cauldron before diving in. The potion turned orange fleetingly, indicating that the speed of the 'dash' was sufficient, before it settled on an emerald green shade.

"Merlin, I'm great." Blaise grinned, eyeing the potion intently.

Octavia shot him an unamused side-glance before she rolled her eyes. Blaise appeared to be rather proud of himself as he set to lowering the flames at the base of the cauldron, finishing the final step for the time being.

As they waited for the potion to sing in the screeches of shrunken linchworms, Octavia and Blaise turned to face the students at the desk behind them. Harry was reclining in his seat, his feet up and resting on the edge of the desk, his hands clasped at the back of his head. Draco, however, was leaning over the cauldron, assessing it intently as he glanced up at Blaise and Octavia. He appeared to be a little on the moody side, actually. His stormy silver eyes darted between Octavia and Blaise, his jaw clenched tightly as his blonde hair fell over his forehead.

"Why were you late?" Draco asked coolly, resting his dangerous gaze on Blaise.

Octavia quirked her brow at his obvious hostility, but quickly turned her attention to the packet of bubble-gum protruding from his trouser pocket. Drooble's Best Blowing Gum it appeared to be by the familiar packaging. Expensive and blue-berry flavoured, and would never dim in taste.

"Tavs said why," Blaise shrugged, propping himself on the edge of Draco and Harry's desk. "Bloody Peeves got us good. I don't know where he even gets all those dungbombs; it's not like he can just mosey on down to Hogsmeade and buy them."

Draco considered Blaise for a moment, his stormy silver eyes regarding him intently before he nodded once. He flickered his silvery eyes toward Octavia, noticing that she was staring intently at the packet of gum in his pocket.

"Can I have one?" Octavia asked, but outstretched her hand toward Draco expectantly as though he had already said yes.

"Yeah," Draco nodded, pulling out the packet of gum and handing it to Octavia.

"Oi," Harry complained, evidently irritated. "You said it was the last one!"

"It is," Draco shrugged, blushing a little as he seated himself on the wooden chair.

Octavia tore apart the paper wrappings, finding that there was indeed only one stick of blue gum left. No matter. She quickly stuffed it into her mouth before Harry could try and snatch it from her.

"Did you take care of the Gryffindor Knight?" Draco asked, reclining in his chair casually.

"Uh huh," Octavia nodded, chewing her gum quickly.

The quicker the gum was chewed thoroughly, the quicker she could make bubbles the size of her head.

"Tavs went a little overboard," Blaise snickered, fiddling with the empty wrappers of the bubble-gum on the desk. "Almost set fire to the entire corridor."

"It was an accident," Octavia scowled.

"What did you mean to do?" Harry grinned, but still looked a little bitter at O getting the last of the bubble-gum.

"I tried to give him antlers," Octavia shrugged.

Draco smirked at her as Harry laughed at her expense.

"No matter," Blaise said. "I think the message was received loud and clear."

"Hopefully," Harry groaned. "Honestly, he's a bloody nightmare that one. If I have to wake up to him trying to duel me again, I'll lose the plot."

"He shouldn't be allowed in the Slytherin dorms," Octavia said snootily. "He's a Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake."

"While I do share your sentiments, Miss Granger," Snape's drawl sounded out, "I do find myself curious as to what your prejudices have to do with potions."

Blaise jumped off the desk and quickly seated himself at his own desk, Octavia scurrying to follow suit.

"Sorry, Professor," Octavia mumbled.

Snape stared down at her for a moment before turning his gaze to the cauldron. Apparently satisfied, the hook-nosed teacher nodded once in approval before he stepped away and moved on to the next table.

Fortunately, without issuing Octavia a detention.

* * *

*.*.*.*.*.*

* * *

The Slytherin common room was alive with vibrant festivities, all students of the house occupying the glowing green room. Some congregated by the study desks, enjoying games of Hangman and exploding snap, and others partook in the Halloween games scattered around the space. There were dancing skeletons on the few coffee tables, ghosts sparring and duelling on the sofas, fake blood dripping down the walls in a gooey mess, enchanted storm clouds that emitted thunder and sheet lightening above, pumpkins bobbing up and down, and live bats fluttering in the darker corners.

Octavia and Pansy stood by a cauldron full of caramel apples, watching as other students dunked their faces into the green slime to retrieve the candied fruits. It was a rather humorous sight, as when a student successfully retrieved an apple by use of only their teeth, the green slime on their faces would quickly trickle into their nostrils and mouths. Watching the older Slytherins cough and sputter in disgust was quite a joy.

"Oi!" Harry shouted across the bustling common room. "Pansy, O! Get over here!"

Pansy sighed as she glanced over her shoulder at the boy, spotting him by the long windows that showed the murky water of the Black Lake. Odd that it was called the Black Lake when its waters were grey. Harry was joined by the other boys of their clique and a few second and fourth years. A dashing half-blood fourth year by the name of Adrian Pucey was tearing off a squared corner of parchment. Ah. They were about to play a very popular came: Pass the Parchment.

"Come on," Pansy said, a little more excited now that she knew the cause for their summons.

Octavia groaned, but fell into step beside her friend as they both journeyed through the crowd of boisterous Slytherins toward the shadowy wall and windows. In truth, Octavia didn't really want to play the game, so planned on just observing. She had never kissed a boy before and really didn't want to drop the parchment, thereby sharing her first kiss with some Slytherin boy right in front of everyone.

Octavia, like most girls, wanted her kiss to be magical and special, and to experience it with a boy she actually liked. However, she didn't like any boys. Not at Hogwarts or outside of the castle. They had no appeal to her in her youthful age, but Pansy had begun to show early interests in boys, if the posters of handsome Quidditch players surrounding her bed were anything to go by.

"Scared, Tavs?" Blaise teased with a grin, noticing the slight frown of reluctance on her features.

"Never," Octavia sniffed snootily, but her hazel eyes swarmed with hesitance and trepidation.

Adrian Pucey successfully created a small piece of parchment, barely the size of one's lips. The cluster of students began to form a circle, some boys shoving their way and standing beside their crushes. Octavia was flanked by Draco and Blaise, Pansy flanked by Theo and Harry, with a few second and fourth year girls in between.

"How do you play?" Astoria asked.

"You suck the parchment against your lips and pass it to the person on your left," Adrian explained. "Then they have to suck it and take it from you, only using their lips, and pass it to the next person. If it drops, they have to kiss."

"So if you lose, you really win," Harry added with a wolfish grin. "Depending on who you have to kiss. Like, if I drop the parchment with Pans, I'll actually win."

Pansy smiled slightly, a light blush on her cheeks as she side-glanced at Harry. It didn't escape O's notice that Harry winked at the stunning brunette, causing Pansy to turn the colour of pickled beetroots.

The hormone-fuelled boys in the circle were smirking already as ploys of 'losing' sprouting in their minds. Only a few girls, however, appeared eager to play. Octavia definitely wasn't one of them. If she dropped the parchment, she would either have to kiss Blaise, one of her best friends, or Draco, her … Well, Octavia didn't exactly know what Draco was to her. Their relationship was complex, to be sure. At times, she liked him, but the majority of the time, she didn't. When he bragged about his father or bullied other students, she wasn't a fan of him, but he often shared his sweets with her, which she did like. He appeared to be somewhat different with her, also, in comparison to how he treated the others, even his best friend, Harry. Either way, she didn't want to kiss him.

This game all just seemed to be a ploy for the students to kiss their crushes. Octavia decided instantly that neither Blaise nor Draco would get to kiss her on the lips should the parchment drop. At most, they would have to kiss her hand instead.

Adrian didn't ask if the circle of Slytherins were ready before he placed the parchment scrap to his lips and sucked. He turned his head to the left, pressing his parchment-covered lips against the lips of Patricia Stimpson. The black-haired girl successfully completed the transfer of the paper with Adrian and passed it along to Harry.

Sucking the parchment scrap against his lips, Harry carefully turned and made to pass it to Pansy. As expected, the parchment dropped right at the last moment, Harry grinning devilishly as he pushed his lips against Pansy's. The brunette raised her brows at the contact, but quickly returned the chaste kiss. Their lips remained connected for a few moments as some of the others in the circle snickered, a few making less than respectful or appropriate comments.

Repulsed by the scene, Octavia scrunched up her face in distaste before flicking her curls over her shoulder and averting her eyes to the floor.

"Do you not want to play?" Draco whispered as the kiss between Harry and Pansy ended.

"Not really," Octavia mumbled, shuffling her feet as Pansy picked up the parchment scrap, blushing profusely.

"Why not?" Draco frowned, speaking in hushed tones so that only she could hear him.

"I dunno," Octavia shrugged, mumbling shyly. "I haven't …"

"You haven't kissed anyone," Draco said, finishing her sentence.

His accuracy was confirmed when she blushed and met his gaze.

"I haven't either," Draco whispered.

It was the absolute truth. He had been presented with the opportunity a few times, but found that he didn't truly want to kiss any of the girls that threw themselves at him. But he would kiss her without hesitation.

Draco frowned at the nervous and reluctant muggle-born beside him as she seemingly ignored his attempt to comfort her. Astoria passed the parchment to Blaise without issue, Octavia turning to take the paper scrap from Blaise. Draco watched with a clenched jaw as they performed the transfer, neither dropping the piece of parchment thankfully. As she turned to him, her lips puckered as she sucked harshly, Draco's posture relaxed marginally. He had almost thought that Blaise would drop the parchment. He knew that they were only friends, but sometimes he did wonder. That was only jealousy's doing, of course.

Draco suddenly became rather nervous as Octavia stomped her foot impatiently, demanding that he take the parchment from her lips immediately. Silver eyes glistened with yearning and anxiety as he licked his lips and tentatively leaned toward her, lowering his head to meet her shorter height. Their plump lips connected, the parchment blocking skin-on-skin contact, both remaining still for a moment. Although, Draco went still from the pleasure of the moment, whereas Octavia was waiting impatiently for him to take the parchment from her lips.

Blaise grinned widely, suspecting that the paper would drop at any moment. He was correct.

The blond pureblood parted from Octavia marginally, the parchment staying on his pink lips for only a moment before it dropped and swayed to the floor. Octavia looked simply outraged, her hazel eyes boring into soft silver orbs with complete fury. Draco blushed as she sniffed snootily and stuck out her hand, gesturing for him to kiss her knuckles rather than her lips.

"That's cheating," Harry sang teasingly. "Has to be lips, O."

"Adrian said 'kiss'," Octavia countered, her fingers wiggling impatiently. "He said nothing about where."

Adrian laughed, but he was internally scolding himself for not specifying where the kiss was to occur. For now, all girls in the game could use that excuse to get out of snogging the boys. He just hoped that his own crush wouldn't pull out that card by means of escape.

Draco clenched his jaw as he glanced at her wiggling fingers before meeting her expectant gaze.

"Ok, new rule!" Adrian declared. "The kiss has to be on the lips. Starting now."

Draco seemed to ignore the fourth year, for he took Octavia's hand in his, bringing it closer to his parted lips as he held her gaze. A small smile twisted at her delectably plump pink lips as he pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles and released her hand.

A frown creased at her brow as her hand dropped to her side. Her knuckles were tingling in the oddest way. It was the sort of tingle she got when a loose curl brushed against the sensitive spot of her neck. A nice feeling, but somewhat peculiar. Suddenly, she found herself blushing as she gazed curiously at Draco. The blond boy snatched the parchment from the floor and sucked it against his lips, turning to the second year girl on his other side.

Peculiar. Octavia didn't like it. She didn't like watching him transfer the parchment to the other girl. Oh boy. And she most certainly didn't like that the girl dropped the parchment and smiled up at Draco. Why didn't she like it? She shouldn't even care. She should literally feel nothing about the interaction at all.

The second year girl, who Octavia decided had a nose too big for her face, leaned up on her tip-toes and batted her boring brown eyes at Draco. Ok, maybe her eyes weren't actually boring, but Octavia had decided that they were.

Her hands balled into little fists by her sides as she watched the girl pucker her chapped lips and move to kiss Draco. Oh no. Octavia really didn't like this. Not at all.

Suddenly, Octavia shoved Draco on the back, the palms of her hands connecting harshly with his spine. Her shove caused the two almost-kissers to whack their foreheads together and curse loudly.

"Oops," Octavia smirked as they both turned to glare at her. "I tripped."

Blaise and Harry had erupted into fits of laughter, having seen exactly what had happened, and it certainly wasn't a stumble on Octavia's part. It was an intentionally harsh shove, plain and simple.

The girl shot Octavia a scathing look before she softened her expression and gazed up at Draco. But Draco was staring at Octavia in confusion as he rubbed his assaulted forehead. Before the girl could resume her disgusting attempts at kissing Draco, Octavia grabbed his arm and pouted.

"I'm bored," Octavia whined, ignoring Blaise who laughed so hard he dropped to his knees. "Come on, let's go play Pin the Wart on the Witch."

Draco raised his brows at her, his cheeks burning red as he nodded. He allowed her to drag him away from the circle, Harry and Blaise roaring with laughter.

The blush remained on Draco's cheeks as she tugged him through the room toward the suggested game. A much less entertaining game than the one they had just played moments ago, but Draco didn't mind. If anything, he was barely able to contain his flustered glee. For it was only the two of them, as opposed to Draco being in her company amongst the others in their clique.

For the first time since he had known her, she was treating him as a friend, and had acknowledged his existence without the ulterior motive of stealing his sweets.

Therefore, it was understandable that Draco sported rosy red cheeks and was unable to string more than two words together. So he just listened to her when she spoke, or bossed him around, and nodded and blushed.


	8. Chapter 8

A Whole New World Chapter 8

* * *

Jeans and a white t-shirt had become Octavia's travel attire of choice over the years at Hogwarts. Fourth year was no different. The clothes were comfortable enough to endure the impossibly long Hogwarts Express journey in a relaxed manner, and trendy enough to appeal to her vain streak. She had worn a denim jacket, but had quickly decided that 'denim on denim' was difficult to pull off after Blaise had mocked the odd material during the train ride. Now, the sleeves of the jacket were tied loosely around her hips as she sat at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall.

Her hair was straightened that morning by her mother's new GHDs, and the product did as the tele advertisements had promised over the summer. While her hair smelled like burnt flesh, it was straight and silky smooth to the touch. This time, Harry had mocked her new hairstyle, so she quickly found herself pulling it back into a high pony-tail. Perhaps she just didn't have the face shape to pull off straight hair? Or, perhaps her friends were buttheads. In all probability, it was the latter.

After the sorting ceremony of the new set of first years had ended, the students all turned their attention to the Headmaster, awaiting his standard peculiar speech.

"Welcome and welcome back!" Professor Dumbledore said once he stood behind the podium. "Now that we're all settled in and sorted, I have an announcement to make. This castle will not only be our home for the duration of the year, but the home to some very special guests as well."

Octavia rested her chin on the heels of her hands, listening to the speech with mild interest. Her gaze briefly darted to the Harry and Draco seated across from her, noticing that they shared a significant look with one another. As if they knew exactly who these mysterious guests would be.

"You see," Dumbledore said, his voice wise and gentle. "Our magical and wonderful school has been chosen to host a legendary event. The Triwizard Tournament."

Instantly, whispers rippled over the crowds of Hogwarts students, some confused and others palpably excited. Octavia noticed that both Harry and Draco seemed to know what the tournament was already, but didn't express any excitement in the slightest. If anything, they both appeared to be rather dejected about the whole thing.

"For those of you who do not know, the Triwizard Tournament brings together three schools for a series of extraordinarily dangerous magical contests." Dumbledore explained. "From each school, a single student is selected – only one."

The Headmaster peered over his spectacles at the crowd of students, grazing his stare across each of the four tables slowly. The pause presumably had the intention of emphasising the graveness of his words, but no student seemed to accept it. Now, the majority of the student body were even more excited than before.

"Eternal glory! That is what awaits the student who wins the Triwizard Tournament, but to do this, that student must survive three tasks. Three extremely dangerous tasks."

Again, a heavy pause as he glanced around at the students.

"Now, let me be clear. If chosen, you stand alone." Dumbledore said. "Trust me when I say; these contests are not for the faint hearted. More on that later, but for now, please join me in welcoming the lovely ladies of Beauxbatons Academy!"

The doors to the Great Hall burst open, revealing a mass of violet. Extraordinarily gorgeous girls clad in soft flowy violet dresses skipped into the grand room, the hems of their dresses flittering as they moved. Their steps and smiles were as graceful as ever, causing almost all Hogwarts girls to scowl and sneer at them in envious distaste. Octavia and Pansy were included in the hostile welcoming.

The boys had twisted around in their seats to watch the stunning beauties titter into the Great Hall, some more interested than others. Harry and Draco eyed them only for a moment before losing interest and turning their backs on the Beauxbatons. Blaise and Theo, however, looked close to either falling off their seats or drooling at any given moment.

Octavia didn't really understand why, but she felt somewhat friendlier towards the Beauxbatons students now that Draco appeared to show them no interest. Instead, he only appeared to be interested in her, resuming his frequent glances at her from beneath his lashes. Surprising both Draco and herself, Octavia met his gaze and offered him a sweet smile before they both blushed and averted their eyes.

Applauds began to break out in the Great Hall as everyone pulled out of their stupors, the pretty girls curtseying in response. They had chosen to seat themselves at the end of the Ravenclaw table, and Octavia quickly found herself disliking them again. This time, not of jealousy though. It was due to their expressions of tedium and distaste as they all glanced around their surroundings, not one of them captivated by the magic of Hogwarts.

"And now our friends from the North!" Dumbledore announced, once all Beauxbatons were seated and the applause died down. "Please welcome the proud sons of Durmstrang!"

A loud bang resounded through the Great Hall, drawing everyone's attentions to the doors again. The bang came again, peaking all students' interests. Suddenly, about a dozen or so fur-cloaked men stormed into the Great Hall, banging their solid wooden canes against the stone floor in perfect unison. Octavia's eyes widened at the sight of them barging into the Great Hall with palpable intimidation, her heart fluttering slightly as she perched on the edge of her. As did most other females in the room.

Every time they banged their canes on the floor, sparks shot out from the bases. But no one noticed that, apparently. Everyone just seemed to be looking at the Durmstrang student beside the Headmaster.

"That's Viktor Krum!" Theo exclaimed in awe, Draco narrowing his eyes at the student over his shoulder before returning his gaze to Octavia.

His scowl appeared at the sight of her; perched on the edge of her seat, gripping the side of the table and lips parted in awe.

Chatter and vigorous applause erupted throughout the Great Hall as the Durmstrang students reached the altar and bowed marginally. Theo almost squeaked with glee as the foreigners took their seats at the far end of the Slytherin table. Blaise seemed to be impressed also, perhaps a little smug, but didn't participate in the applause or cheers.

"Did you see them?" Pansy swooned. "Oh, they're so handsome!"

"A bit scary, though, aren't they?" Octavia mumbled as the students' excitement began to simmer.

"But handsome," Pansy grinned, oblivious to Harry's sneer.

"Attention, please," Dumbledore said from the podium. "Our welcomed guests will be spending the school year with us, so I expect total international cooperation from all of you. The Triwizard Tournament is designed to promote the unity, but changes have since been made. No longer open to all and any student who wishes to compete, there are restrictions; an age limit is now in place. No submissions will be accepted if the student is under seventeen years of age."

The Headmaster glanced around the room sternly as several students exclaimed in outrage and disappointment.

"Silence," Dumbledore demanded as he stepped away from the podium. "The champions will be chosen by an impartial selector: The Goblet of Fire."

Headmaster Dumbledore raised his wand and tapped it against a jewelled casket on the altar, students watching in awe as it slowly dismantled itself. Once the casket had retreated, a pedestal was revealed to the occupants of the Great Hall. Atop the pedestal was a large goblet made of heavy hewn wood, with blue and white flames inside, flickering up to the edges.

"The Goblet of Fire! Anyone wishing to submit themselves to the tournament need only write their name upon a piece of parchment and throw it in the flame before this hour on Thursday night. Do not do so lightly! If chosen, there is no turning back. At the dinner feast on Thursday night, the goblet will return the names of the three it has judged worthiest to represent their schools. The goblet will be placed in the entrance hall tonight, where it will be freely accessible to all those wishing to compete.

"To ensure that no underage student yields to temptation," said Dumbledore, "I will be drawing an Age Line around the Goblet of Fire once it has been placed in the entrance hall. Nobody under the age of seventeen will be able to cross this line.

"Finally, I wish to impress upon any of you wishing to compete that this tournament is not to be entered into lightly. Once a champion has been selected by the Goblet of Fire, he or she is obliged to see the tournament through to the end. The placing of your name in the goblet constitutes a binding, magical contract. There can be no change of heart once you have become a champion. Please be very sure that you are wholeheartedly prepared to play before you drop your name into the goblet."

The excited atmosphere of the Great Hall began to grow tense, the severity and danger of the tournament evidently sinking in to most students.

"As from this moment, The Triwizard Tournament has begun."

* * *

With expressions of complete and utter repulsion, Octavia and Pansy knelt on the dewy grass as they fed their assigned Flobberworm limp pieces of lettuce. The swollen sludgy creature oozed revolting mucus from both its ends, only serving to increase their disgust of the thing. Care of Magical Creatures had fast become one of Octavia's favourite subjects since they chose electives, but that privilege was certainly in danger now. Flobberworms were not only repulsive and slimy, they were nowhere near as fascinating as the unicorns that the class had studied the year prior. Also, the oversized mucus producing bugs were atrociously boring. All they did was just lay there, being gross and smelly.

The double class was taking place in the Herbology patch by the green house, so it was safe to assume that the worms were soon to be used by Professor Stout. Probably to be minced into mulch and used as soil fertility gunge.

The only upside of that day's dreadfully long and tedious lesson was that the students were supervised by the easy going groundskeeper, Hagrid. Technically it was 'Professor Hagrid', but that just didn't seem right. In tune with his dismissed formal title, the teacher for the class was much too interested in talking about Flobberworms to pay any mind to the chatting students. He so submerged in his own little world of magical creatures that he didn't even realise that only a few students were listening to him. Those few were Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom of course.

"Oh bloody hell!" Ronald Weasley shouted across the garden patch, the front of his robes splatted with bubbling puss.

"Aye, you gotta watch out for that Ron." Hagrid said ashamedly. "If ye feed 'em too much on one end, they throw up the lettuce."

"Lettuce?" Ron groaned, looking down at his slimy robes. "There's no lettuce! It's just mucus!"

"Yeah, well…" Hagrid cleared his throat before ignoring the matter entirely.

Harry snickered at Ron's expense, but Octavia noticed that he was now exercising great care in equally dividing the lettuce between both ends of his Flobberworm. Draco sat with Harry, next to Pansy and Octavia's spot on the grass, not paying any attention to the assigned task. He just sat cross-legged on the grass, picking at the green blades absentmindedly, seemingly quite lost in thought.

Octavia had noticed that Draco had been acting rather strangely since their return to Hogwarts for their fourth year. Although she wasn't certain of the cause for his obvious distracted state of mind, nor his seemingly permanent sour mood.

Seated on the other side of the two girls, Blaise and Theo ignored their motionless Flobberworm altogether, and instead, lounged out on the grass as they enjoyed the sunrays from above.

"Do you think that French girl will put her name in for the tournament?" Theo asked, staring up at the wispy clouds as he lay on his back.

"Which one?" Pansy frowned. "All the Beauxbatons are French, aren't they?"

"The blonde one," Theo said, narrowing the group of girls down to about six. "The one that was at the end. Her name was Faun or something."

"Fleur," Blaise corrected, resting his sock-clad feet on O's lap as he moved to lay down. "Fleur Delacour."

"Yeah, that one."

"I would imagine that all the Beauxbatons will put their names in the Goblet." Blaise said, placing his hands beneath his head as he closed his eyes.

"Do you fancy her?" Octavia teased, smirking at Theo.

"How could I not?" Theo scoffed. "She's a solid ten."

"Nah," Harry shook his head, evidently disagreeing. "She's alright, but nothing special."

"Nothing special?" Theo laughed. "You're mad, you are."

"Harry prefers brunettes," Octavia smirked, glancing up at Pansy as the brunette smiled slightly. "Don't you Harry?"

"That I do," Harry grinned, nudging Pansy on the arm, causing the girl to burn red with coy embarrassment.

"Who do you think will compete for Hogwarts?" Pansy asked, clearing her throat as she willed her blush to fade.

"Me," Harry shrugged, his humour dimming.

"Yeah, right." Theo scoffed. "You wish, mate."

"Actually, I don't." Harry countered, appearing quite troubled.

"You think you'll play for Hogwarts?" Pansy smirked, mocking her crush with a quirked brow.

"I know I will." Harry sighed.

"What makes you think that?" Octavia frowned. "You're too young for the tournament, and even if you weren't, the Goblet would have to pick you out of everyone that put their names in for it."

"Father has decided that we both compete," Draco said bitterly, speaking for the first time that entire day.

"Ok, I'm confused," Octavia frowned. "First of all, you're too young. Second of all, each school only has one person to compete in the tournament, and lastly, what the hell has your dad got to do with Harry?"

Both Draco and Harry shared a glance before returning their gazes to their slimy old Flobberworm that lay between them. Neither boy said anything.

"How do you plan on getting passed the age line?" Blaise asked interestedly, propping himself on his elbows.

"We don't." Draco clipped.

"Are you getting someone to put your names in for you?" Theo scowled, evidently upset at being left out of the schemes at play.

"Does it matter how it's done?" Harry asked coolly.

"Uh, yeah," Octavia sassed. "It's against the rules to have someone put your name in for you."

"Since when did you care about the rules?" Blaise laughed.

"I don't," Octavia scowled at him. "But they'll get caught for breaking the rules and lose us house points."

"Drop it." Draco said, side-glancing at O. "We won't get caught, and it is what it is. There's no use talking about it."

"No. We're not the ones that brought it up, Draco." Octavia frowned, eyeing him suspiciously. "You can't expect us to just accept that you're going to compete for Hogwarts when it doesn't make any sense at all."

"I said drop it." Draco stated firmly, not meeting her narrowed eyes.

"And I said no," Octavia glowered.

Draco clenched his jaw tightly, picking at blades of grass, but didn't respond.

While Octavia had refused to leave the topic alone, the others followed Draco's command and fell silent. Pansy returned to feeding their magical creature as Blaise and Theo resumed their impromptu naps on the grass. Harry and Draco, however, shared another meaningful glance as Octavia eyed them both suspiciously.

Scooting closer to Draco on the grass, Octavia caused Blaise's feet to slip off her lap and drop to the ground.

"Hey," Octavia whispered, nudging Draco on the arm.

He sighed before he straightened his back and turned his head to the side to meet her curious gaze.

"If you don't want to compete, why are you putting your name in the Goblet?" Octavia asked in a hushed tone so that only he could hear her.

Draco regarded her for a moment before furrowing his brows. "I'm not."

"But you just said-"

" _I'm_ not." Draco repeated quietly. "But someone else is."

"Why?" Octavia frowned.

"Experience," Draco shrugged, looking entirely dejected.

"Experience for what?" Octavia tilted her head, finding herself further perplexed.

"Nothing," Draco shook his head, returning his gaze to the Flobberworm.

Octavia watched as he frowned at the beast, seemingly enduring a whirling thought process before he turned and met her gaze again.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered.

"For what?"

"For telling you to drop it," Draco shrugged. "I didn't mean to be rude about it. I'm just …"

"Scared?" Octavia frowned with concern.

"No," Draco smirked. "But I am unwilling."

"I'd be scared. I'd understand if you are."

"I'm not scared," Draco laughed quietly. "I just don't want to do it."

"Can't you tell your dad that? He's the one making you enter, right? So just tell him you don't want to."

"It's not that simple," Draco said.

"Why not?"

Draco shook his head before dismissing her question entirely, his posture slumping as he gazed dejectedly at the Flobberworm. Octavia puckered her lips and frowned at him for a moment, torn between offense and concern. Concern won, and that was shown when she scooted even closer to him, the sides of their thighs touching, and took his hand in hers.

Raising his brows, Draco snapped his head to the side as she smiled reassuringly at him, their fingers entwining and hands clasped together firmly. A rosy tinge appeared on both of their faces, but their fingers remained tangled together.

Draco smiled before clearing his throat and squeezing her hand slightly. Their hands didn't part for the duration of the lesson.

* * *

A conflicted atmosphere surrounded the Slytherin clique at the dinner feast. While most were practically giddy with excitement, they were also incredibly anxious and curious to finally discover if there was any truth to the claims made by Draco and Harry. For tonight, the Triwizard Tournament Champions would be announced.

After what seemed like an excruciating eternity, the golden plates cleared of all foods and returned to their original spotless state. There was a sharp upswing in the level of noise within the Hall, which died away almost instantly as Dumbledore got to his feet. On either side of him, Professor Karkaroff and Madame Maxime – the Durmstrang Headmaster and Beauxbatons Headmistress – looked as tense and expectant as anyone.

"Well, the goblet is almost ready to make its decision," said Dumbledore. "I estimate that it requires one more minute. Now, when the champions' names are called, I would ask them please to come up to the top of the Hall, walk along the staff table, and go through into the next chamber" — he indicated the door behind the staff table — "where they will be receiving their first instructions."

He took out his wand and gave a great sweeping wave with it; at once, almost all the candles were extinguished, plunging them into a state of semidarkness. The Goblet of Fire now shone more brightly than anything in the whole Hall, the sparkling bright, bluey-whiteness of the flames almost painful on the eyes.

Everyone watched, waiting. A few people kept checking their watches.

"Any second," Theo whispered, two seats away from a bored looking Draco.

The flames inside the goblet suddenly turned red and sparks began to fly out of it, sizzling in the air. Next moment, a tongue of flame shot into the air, a charred piece of parchment fluttered out of it as the whole room gasped. Dumbledore caught the piece of parchment and held it at arm's length, so that he could read it by the light of the flames, which had turned back to blue-white.

"The champion for Durmstrang," he read, in a strong, clear voice, "will be Viktor Krum."

"No surprises there!" Theo yelled as a storm of applause and cheering swept the Hall.

Octavia watched Viktor Krum rise from the end of the Slytherin table and march up toward Dumbledore. The handsome competitor turned right, walked along the staff table, and disappeared through the door into the next chamber.

"Bravo, Viktor!" Karkaroff boomed, so loudly that everyone could hear him, even over all the applause. "Knew you had it in you!"

The clapping and chatting died down. Now everyone's attention was focused again on the goblet, which, seconds later, turned red once more. A second piece of parchment shot out of it, propelled by the flames.

"The champion for Beauxbatons," said Dumbledore, "is Fleur Delacour!"

"It's her, Theo!" Blaise shouted as the girl gracefully got to her feet, shook back her sheet of silvery blonde hair, and swept up between the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables.

When Fleur Delacour too had vanished into the side chamber, silence fell again, but this time it was a silence so stiff with excitement you could practically taste it. For the Hogwarts champion was next.

Octavia and Pansy instantly glanced at Harry and Draco who were seated across from them. Neither boy was paying attention to the Goblet on the podium, and instead, were slouched over the table, staring tediously at their empty plates.

The Goblet of Fire turned red once more; sparks showered out of it; the tongue of flame shot high into the air, and from its tip Dumbledore pulled the third piece of parchment.

Dumbledore froze as he inspected the parchment, but before anyone could make sense of this, the fire in the goblet turned red again. Sparks were flying out of it. A long flame shot suddenly into the air, and borne upon it was another piece of parchment.

Automatically, it seemed, Dumbledore reached out a long hand and seized the parchment. He held it out and stared at the name written upon it before glancing at the other parchment. There was a long pause, during which Dumbledore stared at the two slips in his hands, and everyone in the room stared at Dumbledore.

Octavia slumped in her chair, having a very good idea as to what had Dumbledore so befuddled and startled. The tense atmosphere of the Great Hall grew suffocatingly thick with impatience and wonder. The fourth year Slytherin clique knew it before Dumbledore had even said it. Harry and Draco kept their patient and cold gazes on their plates. And then Dumbledore cleared his throat and read out —

"Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy."


	9. Chapter 9

A Whole New World Chapter 9

* * *

Clad in black Mary-Janes and a blue summer dress, Octavia sprinted through the dungeon corridors with Pansy, the girls' heels clacking against the stone ground loudly. They were not exactly late to the beginning of the first challenge in the tournament, but had arranged to meet with the boys fifteen minutes ago. They just hoped that Blaise and Theodore had saved them both good seats on the stands. Not for the purpose of having a front-row seat to the dangerous excitement of the challenges, but to ensure that they could watch their friends with concern and displays of support as they competed.

Octavia had come to the decision over the course of the last two months that the tournament was utterly preposterous. Not only were Draco and Harry contracted by the Goblet of Fire to participate in the tournament despite their age, they had to enter the first task without any indication as to what it would entail. For that reason, Draco and Harry had been considerably stressed and irritable as of late. Of course, Draco never took out his troubles on Octavia, but he had not been his usual self. It wasn't of fear that his behaviour had changed, but stress and reluctance. Or, at least, that is what she assumed it to be.

The two girls sprinted onto the main corridor that led to the atrium before skidding to a halt and stumbling. Professor Snape stood in the shadows of an alcove, talking in whispers to Draco and Harry, but they fell silent at the sound of the girls' approach. The three of them turned their heads to the side to identify the intruders of their private conversation, both Harry and Draco looking pale. Well, Draco looked paler than usual, which was definitely saying something.

Instead of his usual marble-like pale and flawless complexion, Draco's skin had a sweaty sheen to it, as well as an observable green tinge. Harry seemed as though he was moments from upchucking or passing out, and there were black rings around his weary eyes. Snape, however, looked as cool as a sea cucumber, void of any emotion, other than the glint of anticipation in his black eyes.

"Miss Granger, Miss Parkinson," Snape greeted in a cold drawl. "Don't you have somewhere to be?"

Pansy and Octavia glanced between the three of them, O's brows knitted together as she sensed the tense atmosphere. They quickly came to their senses and nodded before they continued to walk through the corridor. Harry kept Pansy's gaze as she neared, Draco locking eyes with Octavia. Both girls gave small tight smiles in gestures of reassurance, but their expressions appeared to be more like grimaces than anything.

"Good luck," the girls whispered in perfect unison as they passed.

Harry and Draco nodded once in response, but neither seemed to be reassured or comforted in the slightest. They still looked as though they had just been informed that everyone they knew had died or something equally as tragic. Although Octavia thought she noticed – with a blush, mind you – that Draco's silver eyes swiftly raked over her appearance, a small smile playing on his pink lips. But the girls had passed by them before she could be sure.

Once Pansy and Octavia reached the atrium of the castle, they resumed their sprinting and sped out onto the grounds toward the arena. The stands that enclosed the arena were huge and plenty, assumedly constructed magically earlier that morning. As they reached the arena they noticed that there was a specially delegated stand for faculty members, parents and judges, draped in all colours and crests of the participating schools. It looked much comfier than that of the students' stands.

Climbing up the stairs of the stands decorated in green and silver, Octavia and Pansy quickly located Theo and Blaise in the front row. Thankfully, they had saved both girls a seat on either side of them.

"Took you long enough," Theo said as the girls approached and seated themselves.

"Octavia couldn't decide on an outfit," Pansy complained, sitting beside Theo.

"And that is what you chose?" Blaise asked, quirking his brow as he eyed the attire of the girl beside him.

"Shut it," Octavia scowled, straightening out her baby blue dress.

It wasn't the style of attire she normally wore, and she only owned the girly dress as her mother had insisted she take something 'appropriate' to Hogwarts that year. She had worn it that day on the off-chance that she would meet Draco's parents who were both seated on the faculty stand ahead – at least, she assumed the two attractive and snobbish pale blonds to be his parents.

As Octavia was aware that Draco's parents harboured prejudices toward her kind, she had decided on being as sweet and lovely as possible should they be introduced. It was unlikely that they would like her, but a part of her craved their approval. For what reason, she did not know. All she knew was that she was compelled to smooth out her appearance, including her wild curls that now fell in a sleek cascading heap down her back and decorated with a pink ribbon.

The stands surrounding the empty pitch below gradually filled to capacity over the space of thirty minutes or so. Although, it did seem like a dreadful eternity to the anxious Octavia. They had absolutely no idea what the champions would be facing in the area, but given the severity of Dumbledore's warnings at the start of the school year, she didn't think that it would be Cornish Pixies. Especially if the team of strange men setting up a nest of massive eggs in the centre of the pitch were anything to go by.

The impossibly loud chatter of the crowds of onlookers dimmed as Dumbledore stood from his seat. The Headmaster was between Karkaroff and Madame Maxime, the rest of the first row of seats occupied by Ministry officials. It was safe to assume that the first row was reserved for – and occupied by – the judges of the Tournament.

"Attention!" Dumbledore called, the tip of his wand pressed against his windpipe. "The first task of the Triwizard Tournament will begin at the sound of the cannon. I ask you all to remain seated throughout the duration of each champion's turn, lest you lose a limb or two. One by one, the champions will enter the pitch and attempt to retrieve the golden egg" – most onlookers turned their gazes to the neat cluster of white eggs, noticing that there was in fact a shiny golden one right in the centre – "before their time is up. Each champion will be allotted no more than forty-five minutes to complete this task, and will be judged in three categories; dexterity, creativity and injuries received and caused. At the close of each performance the judges will raise a card to show the score that they are granting the champion, which will be totalled by our own Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Mr Barty Crouch."

A man with a thick and bushy moustache stood from his chair at the end of the front row, bowed slightly at the scattered applause before reseating himself.

"These scores will be given at the end of the first and second tasks of the Tournament, and will determine who will receive a head start in the third and final task." Dumbledore advised loudly.

The Headmaster seated himself elegantly, but no one paid him any further notice. For the attention of the observers were suddenly drawn to a massive gate by the champions' tent that creaked as it opened. The same team of men who had set up the eggs reappeared through the gate, all walking backwards carefully, their wands raised and expressions of great concentration gracing their faces.

A ripple of gasps coursed through the crowds on the stands as a massive sleeping dragon levitated through the gate after the men. A dragon! A scaly, green, huge, monstrous dragon, vapours of smoke seeping out of its impossibly large nostrils as it snorted mid-sleep. The group of men – presumably dragon tamers – lowered the dragon to lay beside the cluster of eggs before they left the pitch and closed the iron gate behind them. But not before they all waved their wands and lifted the sleeping charm from the frightful beast.

"First to compete is Mr Krum of Durmstrang Academy!" Dumbledore announced from his seat.

But half of his announcement was cut off by the premature bang of the cannon, deafening all within vicinity. After a few moments, Viktor Krum emerged from the champion's tent, head held high and wand gripped firmly in his hand. A loud roar of applause and cheers came from the Durmstrangs on another stand, shouting and yelling words of support. If Viktor heard them, he sure didn't show it.

Clad in combat gear, the burly Quidditch player aimed his wand at the dragon, the two of them entirely still as they assessed one another. Suddenly, the dragon stood, thrashed its massive tail threateningly and roared to the heavens.

"Oh my god," Octavia whispered, grabbing Blaise's hand tightly as she watched with wide terrified eyes. "Dragons? Are they fucking serious?"

"They'll be fine," Blaise said through the roar of the dragon and cheers of the crowd. "Don't worry, Tavs."

Their hands remained clasped firmly, Octavia almost breaking his fingers as they watched Krum battle the dragon. And by battle, she meant that he cast the Conjunctivitis Charm on the beast, blinding it with a layer of soggy crust over its eyes.

Shrieks, applauds, gasps and hollers resounded through the morning air as the dragon stumbled around, unable to see. Its tail thrashed around before it stumbled onto the real eggs, breaking the vast majority of the precious things.

"He'll lose points for that!" Theo shouted over the noise of the crowd.

Blaise and Octavia nodded in agreement, but continued to watch with enthrallment as Krum successfully retrieved his egg.

It all went pretty similarly for Fleur Delacour too; she entered, was attacked but narrowly missed being charred to ash, before she cast a powerful sleeping charm on her own dragon, plunging it into a deep slumber. Although, the Beauxbatons champion got too close to the snoring dragon when taking the golden egg. The dragon snorted in its sleep, a surge of fire escaping its nostrils and setting her tight battle attire aflame. Most Hogwarts girls laughed at her expense, though she quickly doused the fire with a jet of water from her wand. That made the girls laugh even louder – Octavia included – for Fleur then resembled a drenched rat.

Octavia's grip on Blaise's hand tightened impossibly as the dragon on the pitch was replaced and the bang of cannon sounded out for the third time.

"Tavs, I need that hand," Blaise winced, trying to pry her slender fingers from his hand. "Seriously, that hurts."

"Shh!" Octavia hissed, clutching his hand even tighter than before.

"Hogwarts champion; Harry Potter!" Dumbledore announced a second before Harry emerged from the beige tent by the gates.

Everyone fell silent, the Hogwarts students encompassed in the tensest and most anxious silence yet. The atmosphere was so thick that Octavia could almost feel the pressure of the air against her lungs, the blonde girl finding it difficult to breathe.

Harry was clad in similar combat gear to Krum, though sported the Slytherin house colours. His boots connected softly with the rocks surrounding the snarling dragon, his movements slow and careful as he raised his wand to the sky.

" _Accio Firebolt!"_

Nothing happened. The dragon kept its protective stance by its eggs, hissing and snarling repeatedly. The mass of onlookers were silent and anxious, and Harry remained perfectly still, his attentive gaze fixed on the beast ahead of him.

Suddenly, the whizzing sound of the Firebolt racing toward Harry was heard, but only for a moment before it was drowned out by the roar of the dreadful dragon. Harry's broomstick reached him just in time, the Slytherin mounting it and taking off speedily. The spot he had just stood on was now black with soot and flickers of flames dancing around the ground. But Harry was soaring up high in the sky, winding and weaving, ascending and dropping, twisting and turning, evading the emitted bursts of fire from the dragon just barely.

The crowd erupted into terrified shouts and shrieks and gasps, watching as Harry narrowly missed constant jets of fire. Harry flied up so high that his form had become hazy and miniscule to the onlookers and dragon. He could barely be seen hovering above, presumably inspecting the pitch below, whirling through potential tactics. Abruptly, Harry nose-dived on his broomstick, racing at an impossible speed toward the ground as the dragon roared and fired jets of fire at him. Luckily, Harry dodged and weaved his way around the exploding bursts of fire, but flames slithered up his right arm.

"He's been hurt!" Pansy shrieked, jumping to her feet in a panic. "His arm! His arm!"

Rather quickly, most observers had gotten to their feet, watching the most dangerous and entertaining performance yet. Pansy was correct; Harry's sweater had been burned to nothing on the bicep of his right arm, revealing scorched flesh. But he didn't stop or falter. He kept flying around the dragon in jagged circles, as though his flesh hadn't been bubbled and boiled by fire.

"Go on, Harry!" Theo roared, waving a Slytherin flag vigorously.

The flag was the same that most Hogwarts students waved; cartoon drawings of Draco and Harry scowling forebodingly with the Hogwarts banner above them. Octavia supposed that the other Hogwarts students would see Harry and Draco as foreboding and mean boys, but she knew them. They weren't like that at all, so she almost found the merchandise to be rather comical. Almost.

In that moment, there was no humour within her. Only fear for her friend as well as confusion. For he continued to fly in circles around the dragon, the beast turning rapidly on the spot to follow him with its fire and gaze.

And then it all became clear.

"YES!" Pansy screamed in perfect unison with Theo.

The crowd erupted into applause and cheers, but no one cheered harder than the those on the Slytherin stand. For Harry had circled the dragon until it became tangled in its chains and constricted. The dragon thrashed around on its back, unable to move more than an inch … or metre – Octavia wasn't very good at calculating distance, you see. Harry grinned widely as he swooped down and snatched the golden egg. He soared up and held the egg above his head as everyone screamed their cheers.

Pansy jumped up and down on the spot, cheering like her life depended on it, wiping away her shed tears of relief. Blaise and Octavia stood tall and proud, praising their friend joyously as Theo repeatedly shouted – "That's my mate!"

After a few moments, however, Octavia's joy diminished into nothing but total fear and misery. For now, it was Draco's turn. Harry returned to the champions' tent, and the atmosphere was vibrant and excited, but Octavia didn't feel that way at all. She felt sick to her stomach. For another dragon was brought into the pitch, replacing the tangled up one. A new golden egg was placed with the others, and the canon deafened everyone once more.

Swallowing back the bile that crept up her throat, Octavia already began to shed tears. Her terrified hazel eyes sparkled with the tears that overwhelmed her, adrenaline pumping through her veins and fear tearing at her pounding heart.

"Octavia," Blaise whispered, shocking her as he rarely used her full name. "He'll be fine. You know him; he's as crafty and skilled as they come."

Octavia knitted her brows together, nodding slightly as tears fell down her cheeks. Blaise sighed and held out his reddened hand.

"You need it more than I do," Blaise smirked, offering her his assaulted hand.

Octavia gave a watery smile, taking his hand again and turning her attention to the pitch. Draco emerged from the champions tent, his silver eyes not even glancing at the dragon. He searched the stands before resting his stare on Octavia. She grinned and cried as she waved.

She didn't know if Draco saw her gesture of support, for he suddenly whipped out his wand and slipped behind a rock to hide from the dragon. Luckily for him, for the dragon roared viciously, sending blasts of fire right at the spot he had been standing in seconds ago. Octavia gasped, her hands cupping her agape mouth as she watched intently. Blaise's hand dropped from her grasp at the movement, so he slipped his arm around her waist instead, gripping her side tightly in an effort to comfort her.

Draco remained behind the rock for a moment before he peaked over the side and flicked his wand to a boulder closer to the dragon. The boulder shivered and trembled, rolled and jittered, before it transformed into a massive snake, bigger than the largest python.

"What the hell is that?" Octavia shrieked over the gasps of terror that ripped through the stands. "Oh my God, it's _huge_!"

"A basilisk!" Theo shouted with an expression of absolute horror.

"That's some transfiguration skills," Blaise said in awe.

The basilisk hissed venomously, slithering upwards into a predatory stance, its yellow eyes fixed on the dragon. The two beasts hissed and snarled at one another, Draco going forgotten behind the rock he crouched by.

"I thought … basilisks – Aren't they meant to kill anything with just their eyes?" Pansy frowned, shouting over the noise of the crowds.

"It's not a real basilisk, is it?" Blaise countered. "It's a transfigured imitation."

"What happens if the dragon gets it?" Theo asked.

"It'll turn back into a rock, I presume." Blaise said quietly, his tone laced with fear.

For if the basilisk returned to the form of a rock, the dragon would return its attention to the other threat by its eggs; Draco.

The two beasts reared and snarled, the crowd all holding their breaths anxiously as the air went still. A fierce roar tore through the dragon, fire billowing out of it as it initiated its attack on the feral basilisk. The scaly snake soared out of the way just in time, snapping at the air in front of the dragon, the beasts battling fiercely.

Draco slipped out from behind the rock, expertly jumping from boulder to boulder with complete stealth. The creatures didn't notice him as he snuck closer to the golden egg step by step, winding and weaving his way through the rocks silently. As he neared the cluster of eggs, however, the dragon exhaled billowing balls of fire, setting the snake aflame instantly.

The cries of the basilisk ripped through the air, but they were almost drowned out by the uproar of the crowd.

"DRACO, WATCH OUT!" Octavia screamed, her panicked voice lost in the shouts from all stands.

The dragon whipped around, just as Draco had landed perfectly on the boulder closest to the eggs. Draco froze as the dragon snarled, foolish enough in thinking that he had more time to retrieve the egg.

Suddenly, the dragon reared back, threw its head up high before releasing a huge jet of fire right at Draco. He dived out of the way, landing harshly on another rock, but wasn't quick enough.

"NO!" Octavia cried as Draco's form was submerged in roaring fire, the crowd screaming in total terror. "DRACO!"

Octavia was so distracted by her fear for Draco's life that she didn't notice a trickle of blood drip from her nostril. She became quite light headed, but pushed through long enough to watch the fire leave Draco's body and soar up into the air before it dispersed entirely. Blood now poured out of her nose, but nobody noticed. For Draco stood on the boulder, completely unscathed despite being submerged in fire seconds ago.

The dragon released another jet of fire, but this one didn't even make it to Draco. The flames parted before reaching him, as though colliding with an invisible barrier.

"How the hell is he doing that?" Theo shouted, utterly baffled, whilst in palpable awe.

Draco seemed to be in as much shock as the people on the stands, constant streams of fire coming from the dragon, but never reaching him. The flames either parted around him, soared up into the air or dispersed entirely.

Stumbling on her feet, Octavia gripped onto the bannister as her vision blurred. She could only just make out Draco sprinting toward the egg, the flames exploding around him, but not touching him.

There was a loud eruption of applause; Draco had the egg, dragon tamers came, Blaise was shouting something. But all of it was mere echoes and blurry scenes.

And then Octavia saw only darkness right before she crumbled to the ground, blood leaking from her eyes, nose, mouth and ears.


	10. Chapter 10

A Whole New World Chapter 10

* * *

To say that Harry and Draco were enjoying the fame that came with being Tournament champions would be the understatement of the century. Both Slytherins appeared to only be experiencing an impossible increase of arrogance, especially Harry. Draco kept his cool demeanour about him at all times, but Octavia noticed the frequent smirks and triumphant glints in his silver eyes as he received shouts of praise from passing students.

Draco had received the highest score from the judges in the first task, due to his lack of his injury, his creativity with transfiguring a rock into a basilisk, as well as his dexterity. Draco never explained how he managed to be engulfed in flames without charring himself in the slightest, nor did he enlighten anyone as to the spell he had used to block the fire that attacked him. It was rather odd, however, that whenever he was asked the same repetitive question, he glanced at Octavia. She didn't really understand why. Perhaps it was due to the reminder of what had happened to her that day, two months ago.

When Draco had been successful in retrieving the golden egg, Octavia had fallen unconscious due to a random haemorrhaging episode. Madam Pomfrey had diagnosed its cause to be from the stress of her two friends competing in the dangerous tasks, and had kept her in the infirmary for two weeks straight. Octavia still had to return to the hospital wing once every Friday night to receive a health assessment, ensuring that she would not suffer another strange episode.

Octavia didn't mind all that so much- she was just glad that Professor Snape hadn't written to her parents about the health scare. She had no doubt in her mind that her mother would pull her out of Hogwarts if she learned of the haemorrhage.

Things had quickly returned to normal at the school after the first task. The excitement remained, and was only increased by the approaching second task that would take place the next day, but classes had resumed, and school was the same. Even the champions resumed their studies, although Draco and Harry were hardly doing so in that moment.

Draco currently napped beside Octavia in History of Magic, his face resting on the open book atop the desk. Harry did as he always did in History of Magic; he fired spit-balls at the ghost-teacher.

Octavia wanted to scold the hell out them. For neither Harry or Draco had yet to figure out the clue to the second task, so in her opinion, they were wasting their valuable time. The last thing she wanted was for either of them to enter the second task without sufficient preparation. They had to know what they were up against, and all they knew so far was that it would be worse than dragons. Much more dangerous, and incredibly difficult. Yet, they lazed around and ignored the golden eggs that served as their clues.

For that reason, Octavia didn't pay attention in the class. She poured over a useless tome, hoping that she would somehow find the answers in its pages. The book that she had borrowed from the library that morning was a standard dangerous creatures book, and she had no idea what she was searching for. Mostly, Octavia just skimmed the pages, looking for the word 'egg'. It was hardly surprising that she wasn't successful, for she wasn't exactly the sharpest witch around. But any attempts to help her friends were better than none at all. Especially when Draco snoozed beside her, mumbling in his sleep.

"How much longer?" Pansy groaned, thudding her forehead against the desk.

"Hour and a bit," Octavia mumbled after checking her watch.

"I might die from boredom," Pansy grumbled, seated between Octavia and a nodding Harry who evidently agreed with the brunette.

A knock sounded at the classroom door, but barely anyone noticed. The teacher continued to drone in a monotonous voice, and the majority of students continued to sleep. The knock sounded out again, and again, no one really noticed except Octavia, Pansy and Harry.

After a moment the door creaked open, Marcus Flint stepping into the classroom. He frowned at the oblivious teacher before shrugging and scanning over the students swiftly. When he spotted Harry and Draco at the table closest to him, he swaggered toward them.

"Potter," Marcus hissed. "Snape wants to see you and Malfoy in his office."

"Now?" Octavia quirked her brow as Draco began to rouse.

"Was I talking to you, mudblo-"

It happened so quickly that it was a complete blur. One second, Draco was waking up from his sleep, rubbing his hands over his tired face, and the next, he was standing, grabbing Marcus's throat and shoving him against the stone wall.

Octavia blinked stupidly as Draco clutched the boy's throat tightly, Marcus's face growing purple rather quickly. Draco looked practically murderous, even frightening Octavia with the sheer rage that radiated from his tense body.

"What was that?" Draco whispered softly, only serving to increase the danger emanating from his pores. "I dare you to call her that word, just once. I would love an excuse to rip you apart in front of the entire school."

Harry leaned back in his chair, his head turned as he watched the scene with a wide grin. Pansy watched with raised brows, Blaise and Theo twisting around in their seats, snickering at the expression of fear that Marcus sported.

Marcus tried to speak, probably an apology, but the vice-like grip on his throat prevented anything but sputters and wheezes. Draco abruptly released his hold on the Slytherin one year their senior, Marcus dropping to the floor as he coughed and wheezed.

"Come on," Harry laughed, grabbing his books and standing from his seat. "Snape wants to see us."

Draco nodded as he collected his own belongings, Octavia gazing up at him with a soft smile. When he met her sparkling hazel eyes, his cheeks turned pink and lips twisted into a smile. Draco cleared his throat, averting his eyes as he blushed and exited the classroom swiftly, Harry at his heels.

Once he was able to breathe without issue, Marcus climbed to his feet and glanced at Octavia.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

Octavia sneered at him in response, not forgiving his almost verbalised racial slur. He didn't care. Marcus turned and ran out of the classroom, Blaise and Theo laughing at his cowardice.

Sniffing snootily, Octavia turned back around in her chair, Blaise and Theo twisted around to face her.

"Find anything?" Blaise asked through a yawn, stretching his limbs.

"Nope," Octavia shook her head, glancing down at the book he was referring to. "It's hard to find anything when I don't know what I'm looking for."

"Search for anything that mentions shrieks that sound like a thousand quills scratching against a blackboard," Theo said.

Octavia hummed, agreeing wholeheartedly with his comparison of what the golden egg sounded like when opened. It was the most cringe-worthy, skin-crawling, ear assaulting noise that she had ever heard. And how that noise was a clue to the second task was simply beyond her comprehension.

"We better figure it out soon," Pansy sighed. "The task is tomorrow."

"There's no way we'll figure it out on time," Octavia said. "Honestly, they're not even trying. It's like Harry and Draco don't care at all."

"They're trying," Theo countered. "They were up all night in the dormitory reading books and stuff."

"That's why they've been so tired lately," Blaise added. "I don't think either of them have slept much in the past week."

"Maybe if they didn't leave it all to the last week we wouldn't be having this problem," Pansy said.

Theo grunted in a neutral response, not agreeing nor disagreeing with Pansy's statement. Blaise hummed, seemingly losing interest in the subject that they had discussed incessantly for the past few weeks.

"Hey, O," Blaise said, leaning toward her desk.

"Mm?" Octavia hummed distractedly, having already begun to read her tome again.

"You should be careful with that book," Blaise smirked. "Merlin forbid you learn anything."

"Shut up," Octavia scowled.

"You have ink on your face by the way," Blaise grinned widely.

Octavia instantly moved her ink-stained hands to her face, patting over her cheeks as she searched for the ink stains that didn't exist seconds prior. Blaise laughed as he watched her smear blots of ink all over her own face before she caught on to his prank.

"I actually hate you," Octavia groaned, grabbing a spare piece of parchment and dabbing at her face.

"Love you too, Tavs," Blaise winked before turning around in his chair.

She stuck out her tongue at the back of his head, but of course, he didn't notice. Not only did he have his back to her, he was already riffling through his bag for a dungbomb, planning on ending the lesson prematurely.

Like he had done in every lesson that entire day.

* * *

Octavia chewed her bottom lip as she frowned, sporting an expression of utter confusion and concentration. Pansy and Theo knelt by the coffee table, pouring over several open tomes as Blaise lounged lazily by the fireplace, hardly helping at all.

The second task of the Tournament was set to begin in the morning, but they were now facing more hurdles than they were before. Draco and Harry had somehow partly figured out the clue that was the egg, claiming that the shrieks turned into a song when they listened to it underwater. Octavia had no idea how they had come to discover that the egg sang underwater, but suspected that it had a lot to do with Professor Snape's earlier summons of the two champions.

Now that she thought about it, Professor Snape appeared to be assisting Harry and Draco in their tasks. For before the dragon task, she and Pansy had encountered Snape in the dungeon corridors, talking with Harry and Draco in whispers. Both champions appeared rather shocked that morning, so it was likely that Snape had told them about the dragons that they faced shortly after. That would explain their calm demeanours when they had entered the arena to find a dragon protecting eggs, and had already planned out their strategies. And now, after seeing Snape in his office, Harry and Draco all of a sudden knew the song that golden egg sung. It was very peculiar.

Yes, Snape was their head of house, as well as Draco's godfather. But the rules were absolute; the champions were to stand alone. No assistance was to be offered by faculty members. So why was Snape helping them? A question that Octavia didn't have the answer to, and a question that should be left for another time. There were more pertinent matters to concern herself with.

"Say it again," Pansy ordered, glancing up at Harry who was sprawled out on the leather sofa, facing the coffee table.

"Come seek us where our voices sound," Harry droned, having repeated the song a hundred times. "We cannot sing above the ground. And while you're searching, ponder this; We've taken what you'll sorely miss. An hour long you'll have to look, and recover what we took. But past an hour, the prospect's black; too late, it's gone, it won't come back."

"Mermaids," Pansy nodded, saying what they already knew. "Obviously in the Black Lake."

"They've taken something," Octavia frowned, chewing her lip relentlessly as she concentrated hard. "And it's in the Black Lake … and you have to get it within an hour."

"Great," Harry scoffed. "We have it all figured out. Oh, except the little tiny minuscule issue of breathing under water for a whole hour. Other than that, thanks guys, you've been a great help."

"No need to be a prat," Pansy rolled her eyes. "We're doing all we can, Harry."

"Well it's not enough, is it?" Harry bit, throwing the book from his lap onto the space between himself and Draco.

"Maybe you should go to bed," Pansy suggested coldly. "You need to get some sleep before the task, and honestly, you're being a pain in the ass."

Harry stood from the sofa and stormed off without a word, evidently going to bed, but with quite the chip on his shoulder. Octavia got up from the other sofa and scurried over to sit next to Draco, sitting cross-legged beside him as she resumed reading her heavy tome. Draco gave her a side-glance, raising his brows slightly before he smiled and returned his attention to his book.

"How long does it take to learn animagi?" Theo asked, reading a page on the self-transformation.

"Three years, give or take," Blaise answered, lounging casually by the fireplace.

"Oh!" Octavia gasped, tapping her hand excitedly against her book. "What about this? It says 'the scuba-spell'! They use it in the Red Sea."

"It only lasts for fifteen minutes," Draco said with a small smile, praising her while thwarting her suggestion.

"What if you just come back up for air every fifteen minutes and recast it?" Octavia suggested.

"It's effects aren't that great," Draco shook his head. "The more I cast it, the less time it works for."

Octavia heaved a heavy sigh, returning her dejected gaze to the tome.

"It was a good suggestion," Draco said quietly, nudging her on the arm. "It really was."

"Yeah, well," Octavia grumbled. "Doesn't really help you out, does it?"

Draco's brows knitted together as he observed the side of her face, noticing the dark circles around her tired eyes.

"You are helping," Draco whispered softly.

Octavia shrugged lamely, not accepting his gratitude. How could she when they weren't any closer to truly assisting them? Yes, she sat there and read countless books – more books than she had ever read in her entire life! But it was all for naught, for they hadn't discovered anything that would help Harry and Draco breathe underwater for an entire hour. She would only accept his gratitude when she was certain that they could perform the task safely.

But that prospect was seeming less likely by the minute.

* * *

Octavia frowned as someone nudged her gently, attempting to wake her from a deep drowsy sleep. She could feel the dampness of drool on her chin and down her cheek, and her eyelids were as heavy as a tonne of pickled toads. Her neck was stiff and her spine ached from her tangled sleeping position, her head resting on something hard and totally uncomfortable. Again, another nudge shook her body lightly, the sound of a soft whisper creeping into her evaporating dreams.

"Octavia, wake up," Pansy whispered. "We have to go."

Groggily – and quite huffily – Octavia fumbled around and pushed herself into a sitting position as she yawned. Opening her weary eyes, her eyelids drooping, Octavia creased her brows as she glanced at her surroundings. She wasn't in the dormitory that she shared with Pansy and Daphne, but in the Slytherin common room. How odd. She must have dozed off while she and the others searched for answers in the piles of tomes around them.

A light blush swept over her cheeks and nose as she released exactly what she had been sleeping on. Partly the leather sofa and partly Draco Malfoy. Her brows shot up as she pushed herself away from him entirely, having evidently been resting her head on his lap. And now Draco sported a wet patch of her drool on his black trousers. Lovely. That's not incredibly embarrassing or anything.

"Come on, O," Pansy whispered, causing Octavia to flinch. She had almost forgotten that Pansy was there in her dazed stupor. "We have to go."

"Go?" Octavia repeated, rubbing her hands over her face.

"Professor Snape wants to see us," Pansy hushed, taking her arm and helping her to her feet.

"I'll go shower first," Octavia grumbled.

"We can't. The Bloody Baron says that he needs to see us right now. He says it's really important."

Octavia stifled a yawn so as not to wake the others. Blaise, Theo and Draco were all fast asleep around the simmering embers in the fireplace.

"What time is it?" Octavia asked sluggishly.

"Six in the morning," Pansy answered. "Don't worry, we have plenty of time to get ready for the task. But we have to go now."

Octavia nodded lazily, her eyelids drooping as Pansy dragged her through the silent common room. She was honestly so tired to the point that she didn't even harbour a spark of curiosity as to what the Professor could want with them. And she was so utterly dejected about not finding anything to help Draco and Harry in the task that she wished for nothing short of a bloody miracle.


	11. Chapter 11

A Whole New World Chapter 11

* * *

Draco fastened a holster to his thigh before slipping his wand into the strap securely as Harry pulled on a pair of dragon leather gloves. The two Hogwarts champions stood on the bank of the Black Lake, facing the murky body of water with stoic expressions. Although, if anyone observed them for longer than a few moments at a time, they would notice that both Slytherins frequently glanced around them, searching for something or someone.

The massive lake was surrounded with constructed stands that were full to the brim with students of all three participating schools. There were two stands that flanked the champions on the shore, blanketed in various school crests and colours; the stands for the _important_ people, like the teachers, headmasters and parents of the participants.

"Can you see them?" Harry whispered, pulling on a water-resistant sweater.

"No," Draco clipped, his cold silver gaze raking over the stands that ranged the water.

"They didn't leave a note or anything?"

"I told you they didn't." Draco said coolly, evidently irritable.

Harry nodded firmly, his expression and eyes hardening. It was truly unlike Pansy and Octavia to disappear when Draco and Harry needed them most. The girls couldn't exactly help them in that moment, but it would provide both boys comfort to know that they were supported by the girls from the stands. Alas, they had fled in the morning and were yet to reappear.

"Do you think it's 'cause I was a prat?" Harry asked regretfully. "Maybe Pansy doesn't want to come …"

"Maybe," Draco shrugged. "But that doesn't explain why Octavia isn't here."

"Yeah," Harry sighed, his gaze scanning over the clusters of people on the stands. "They're here, but we just can't see them."

Draco hummed, not buying his friend's self-assurance. Draco would know if Octavia was there, watching him. He would feel her presence. He would see her wild curls amidst the blur of the crowd. Draco would know.

"Draco," a cold drawl sounded out. "Harry."

Harry and Draco turned around to face the approaching Malfoy patriarch, a solemn and anxious looking Narcissa by his side. Lucius remained perfectly stoic as he approached the Hogwarts champions, his long black cane crackling against the stone shore of the Black Lake.

"Father," Draco greeted dryly as Harry inclined his head.

"I trust that you are both prepared for the task," Lucius drawled.

"Yes." Harry stated firmly.

"Do be careful, won't you," Narcissa said softly, smiling sadly at both boys.

"We will, mother," Draco nodded, allowing her to pull him into an embrace.

Lucius waited patiently for Narcissa to hug Draco before she transferred her gesture of adoration and support to Harry. But when Lucius glanced over his shoulder and saw that Sirius was approaching with a scowl on his face, he cleared his throat and ended Narcissa's embrace with Harry instantly.

"How do you find yourself equipped?" Lucius asked quietly, so they would not be overheard.

"Snape sent us a parcel of gillyweed this morn- ow!" Harry answered automatically, Draco elbowing him harshly on the side.

"You demonstrate further reliance on others," Lucius drawled. "That is not the purpose of your participation in this Tournament."

Harry and Draco both clenched their jaws and averted their stares to the stone shore at the reprimanding.

"Harry," Sirius greeted as he shoved by Lucius. "Is everything alright?"

"Yeah," Harry grinned. "As good as it can be."

Sirius nodded but possessed an expression of suspicion as he glanced between Lucius and Harry with narrowed eyes.

"Sirius, it's fine." Harry laughed. "Lucius was just wishing us good luck."

"Indeed." Lucius said, his upper lip curling as he kept his stare on Narcissa's cousin.

"Attention!" Dumbledore's voice boomed around the lake, vibrating strongly in the air. "The champions will take their places at the sound of the whistle!"

Lucius glanced between Draco and Harry before giving them a pointed and cold look. Sirius sneered at the aristocrat before the adults dispersed and returned to the stands that flanked the champions on the shore.

"He's catching on," Harry sighed, watching as Sirius climbed up the steps to the stand on the left.

"It is your duty to ensure that he doesn't," Draco retorted as they turned and approached the rim of the water.

"Well, it was your duty to be the brains and figure out a way to get us through these tasks," Harry bit. "But you couldn't do that without Snape, could you?"

Draco didn't respond as they neared the water, but Harry assessed him through the corner of his eye.

"Hang on," Harry said, holding out his arm to halt Draco. "Snape sent us the gillyweed, right?"

Draco shrugged, his fierce silver eyes boring right into emerald green eyes. They both remained silent as they assessed one another, figuring the other out.

"You knew all along," Harry scoffed, taking a step back as he shook his head. "Mate, you bloody knew about gillyweed the whole time, didn't you?"

"Of course I did," Draco drawled. "You didn't actually think that I hadn't figured it out, did you?"

"Why wouldn't you tell me?" Harry hissed. "I didn't sleep for weeks! _We_ have been up all night every night looking for clues to help us with this fucking Tournament."

Draco smirked deviously, his mercurial silver eyes glinting with wickedness.

"For her, right?" Harry mocked coldly. "So she'd help you and finally notice _poor little Draco._ "

"It worked, didn't it?" Draco grinned.

"You could've told me," Harry scowled.

"I needed you to focus. I left you with figuring out the first task and you go running to Snape for answers. This training isn't only for me, Harry."

The sound of the whistle came, indicating that the champions were to take their places. Harry and Draco shared a look before they separated and stood at their names on the shore, written with perfectly placed black pebbles. All champions stood a few feet away from each other, and all were dressed in appropriate swimming attire. Not swimming trunks and light t-shirts, but tight shorts, water-resistant sweaters that clung to their bodies, leather gloves and wand holsters.

Though they couldn't make out the blurred mass of people in the stands around the lake, both Harry and Draco continued to try, both searching for Pansy and Octavia in the crowds. No such luck.

"Well, all our champions are ready for the second task, which will start on my count. They have precisely one hour to recover what has been taken from them. On the count of three, then. One . . . two . . . three!"

The extraordinarily annoying blast of the cannon resounded through the air, all four champions trudging through the shallow shore waters slowly. As they moved, Draco and Harry retrieved rubbery green blobs from their pockets and stuffed them into their mouths. Neither chewed the horrid looking things, but swallowed them whole in a forced gulp. Viktor's face blurred and morphed into the head of a shark before he dove into the water, and Fleur waved her wand, causing a bubble of air to appear over her beautiful face.

Once all champions had thrown themselves into the concealment of the murky water, the cheers from the crowd erupted violently. People cheered and jeered, booed and catcalled, praised and applauded. All supporting their champion of choice. But the champions did not hear the crowd, for the pressure of the icy water prevented it.

Quickly, Draco and Harry reconnected with each other in the lake, both sporting gills on either sides of their necks, their hands and feet now webbed to assist them in swimming expertly. They breathed easily under water and watched as Viktor and Fleur swam away in the distance of the foggy water before they disappeared entirely.

'Ready?' Harry mouthed, Draco nodding once in response.

The Hogwarts champions dove down into the great depths of the Black Lake, swimming through tentacles of water weeds. They had soon swum so far into the lake that they could no longer see the light glimmer of the surface, and didn't know how deep into the water they were. But they kept swimming, frequently checking the time on their enchanted watches. It didn't feel as though they had been in the lake for more than five minutes, but their watches said otherwise; thirteen minutes and counting. If either of them felt panicked at the dwindling time, they didn't show it.

The water pressed against their bodies as they glided swiftly over a strange and foggy landscape, as though it was once a great civilisation that had been swallowed up by the lake. They could only see a few metres around them, but pushed on and just hoped that they were swimming in the right direction.

A muffled shriek caught their attentions, and both Harry and Draco flipped and dove down into the ruins beneath. The Slytherins came to a stop in the water as they noticed bubbles of oxygen billowing up toward the surface, however far away that was. The bubbles were coming from a distressed Fleur Delacour who was currently being attacked by a savage pack of Grindylows.

Sharing a look with one another, Draco and Harry silently agreed to not assist the champion and swam over her, the Grindylows too distracted to notice them. As they soared through the water at a rapid pace, new scenes seemed to loom suddenly out of the oncoming darkness: forests of rippling, tangled black weed, wide plains of mud littered stones. A lot of valuable time had passed as they reached the middle of the lake, their eyes darting around at the grey waters.

It was then that they heard a snatch of a melody.

 _'Come seek us where our voices sound – We cannot sing above the ground.'_

Draco and Harry twisted their bodies before diving down deeper into the dark water beneath, following the haunting voices of the merfolk.

 _'Your time's half gone so tarry not, lest your treasures stay here to rot.'_

Swimming speedily, Draco and Harry reached a cluster of rough stone dwellings stained with algae. The constructions loomed out of the darkness, scattered windows and faces appearing as they neared. The faces belonged to the merfolk that watched the champions intently, some singing and others leering. Harry and Draco sped on, deeper into the dwelling of the merfolk.

Eventually, they reached what appeared to be a village square, a choir of merfolk singing in the centre, luring the champions toward them. Behind the choir was a stone statue hewn from a boulder, with four people bound tightly to the tail of the stone merman.

Harry and Draco froze in shock at the sight of the bound and sleeping persons that bobbed in the water. Pansy and Octavia were right in the centre, hair floating around their faces, creating ominous halos of sorts. There was a girl beside Pansy who looked no older than eight, resembling the Beauxbatons champion, and Hermione Granger was bound on the other side of Octavia. If Harry or Draco had cared about the other treasures, they would have found it peculiar that Hermione Granger was there, but they didn't.

Draco and Harry soared toward the two girls, whipping out their wands and aiming them at the ropes that bound their respective treasures. Just as they neared, however, a half-man half-shark came soaring out of nowhere, chomping on the rope that bound Hermione Granger and taking off, the sleeping Gryffindor drifting along behind him into the darkness.

Draco cursed inwardly, furious that Viktor Krum had retrieved his person before himself and Harry. It would cause Viktor to win the second task and he would be awarded higher points than the Hogwarts champions, perhaps tying all three of them for first-place overall. They would find out once they reached the surface.

When they reached the girls, Harry and Draco flicked their wands, severing the ropes that bound the girls. Harry snatched Pansy's ankle as she almost floated away and began to swim directly upwards to the surface. Draco, however, grabbed Octavia by the waist, her hair in his face as he followed Harry up through the water. If Octavia was to wake, Draco wanted her to be able to hold onto him, rather than float behind him. She was no swimmer, and would undoubtedly be terrified if she awoke in the water.

Harry checked his watch as they swam up into dimly lit waters, nearing the surface. Eight minutes left. They would pass with ease it seemed. Perhaps performing the task in less than the allotted time limit would increase their overall scores. That, combined with their winning scores from the first task would surely put them in first place for the final task of the Tournament.

Reaching the surface was much harder than swimming to the merfolk they quickly realised. For now, they had the weight of another person to drag up with them, and their hands were occupied with holding onto the girls. Due to that, both Harry and Draco could only rely on their feet and legs to push themselves upwards in the water- very exhausting work, even with flippers for feet.

Light began to shine into the waters, the darkness slipping away. Pansy frowned as they neared the surface and Octavia squirmed feebly in Draco's hold. Before either girl could awake in the water and become quickly terrified, Draco and Harry accelerated their pace, fighting through the exhaustion and weariness that pressed down on them. Their legs ached dreadfully, their gills, flippers and fins beginning to disappear.

Their movements slowed and grew sluggish quickly, the water they had been swallowing no longer providing them with oxygen. Harry coughed and sputtered out water, only to swallow more in the process, Draco catching up to him gradually. The girls began to rouse, streams of bubbles pouring out their mouths and nostrils.

Forcing all scraps of energy to gather within him, Draco kicked his now human legs fiercely, pushing himself up to the light that danced a metre above. Harry was dropping in the water, his eyelids drooping as he moved his legs sluggishly.

Suddenly, Octavia woke fully, thrashing around in Draco's arms as she began to sink, pulling Draco down with her. The surface was so close, but as the four of them descended in the water, it was so very far away.

Coughing out water, Draco gripped onto his wand firmly, his other arm tightening around O's waist and holding her thrashing body against his. He ignored the scratches of her fingernails against his skin as she panicked, and issued a silent spell toward Harry. A rope shot out of his wand, winding around Harry's wrist and yanking the pair closer to himself.

Once he had secured everyone to him, Draco aimed his wand down to the depths of the water and issued a constant string of spells. Everything from blasting spells to surging spells, but they only lifted the four of them slightly higher. Draco almost scolded himself for taking a moment to recall the most useful spell in that moment. He fired out a blue jet, the _ascendio_ charm surging all four of them up toward the surface swiftly.

Sharp intakes of oxygen ripped through the air as they all reached the surface, all four of them sputtering out water and gasping for breath. Octavia clutched onto Draco tightly, her arms latched around his neck as she wheezed and whimpered repeatedly. He snaked one arm around her waist, holding her above the icy water that surrounded them.

Harry and Pansy turned in the water, swimming side by side toward the shore as the crowds screeched in applause. Draco took longer to reach the shore as he had to swim for both himself and the whimpering muggle-born that was on him like a grindylow.

Once they reached the shore, an entourage of judges, teachers and parents swarmed them instantly. Draco hoisted Octavia up to her feet before he was pulled away from her by Madam Pomfrey, the school healer fussing over him and draping thick woollen blankets over his drenched body. Octavia was kneeling on the shore, coughing up water as she trembled; from either the cold or shock, or perhaps both.

"Get off," Draco snapped, shrugging the healer away from him as he jogged back toward Octavia.

He dropped to his knees beside her and threw his own blanket over her shaky figure before helping her to her feet.

"Are you ok?" Draco asked quietly as the judges convened nearby.

"Yeah," Octavia croaked, her face smeared with mascara, eyes watery and body shaky.

"Draco!" Lucius barked, standing two metres away.

Draco glanced up at the stony faced man, Narcissa beside Lucius with an expression of relief and understanding. Narcissa's blue eyes scanned over the girl that Draco held up with an arm around her waist, assessing her intently. Lucius watched as Draco turned to Octavia and pulled the towel around her tightly, their gazes locking.

Damp blond hair hung over Draco's forehead as he stared down at Octavia, soaked tresses clinging to random parts of her make-up smeared face. Her bottom lip quivered from the cold, but her big hazel eyes sparkled with understanding. She was the taken; she was the treasure.

"Still?" Octavia whispered, her voice hoarse and croaky.

Draco swallowed before he clenched his jaw and nodded, his cheeks pink from the icy breeze and his usual blush. Of course, Octavia knew how he felt about her, but had had her doubts. He hadn't made any advances on her, nor had he expressed his feelings. But now she knew for certain, and suddenly found herself overwhelmed with affection that mirrored his for her. She felt the same way.

"Ask me," Octavia whispered. "Ask me to the Yule Ball."

Draco's lips twitched, twisting into a small smile as he rested his forehead against hers, wrapping his arms around her and pulling her against him. He couldn't find the courage to look at her while he asked, even though she had sort of already agreed.

"Will you … come to the Ball with me?" Draco asked softly, closing his eyes as he anxiously awaited her response.

"I dunno," Octavia sighed. "I'll have to think about it."

Draco's eyes shot open and he pulled back to gape at her, but his expression softened as he saw that she was beaming up at him.

"Duh," Octavia laughed. "Of course I'll go with you."

Draco released a breath that he didn't know he was holding, his tense body visibly relaxing.

"Draco," Narcissa called, her elegant voice chiming like a melody.

Draco glanced over at his mother who had her gaze fixed on Octavia. He sighed and returned his attention to the soaked, trembling girl in front of him.

"Go," Octavia smiled. "I'm fine."

Draco nodded once, but frowned slightly as he lingered.

"Change," Draco said, eyeing her soaked school uniform and the now-damp towel around her. "You'll get sick if you stay in those for much longer."

"Yeah, thanks dad." Octavia teased, shoving him away from her. "Go."

Nodding, Draco smiled at her before he turned and walked off toward his parents, Harry already listening as Lucius spoke quietly to him. That's odd. They repeatedly glanced over at Sirius Black as he spoke to the Ministry official, Ludo Bagman, completely unaware of the conversation going on between Harry and Lucius.

Before Octavia could observe them any longer, Madam Pomfrey had popped out of nowhere and began to guide her – or _shove_ her – toward the farther end of the shore, where there were clothes and Pansy waiting for her.

Octavia did allow herself one final glance over her shoulder while being herded, frowning at what she saw.

Lucius Malfoy was speaking in hushed tones to Draco and Harry, but was looking over Harry's shoulder at Octavia. It was a stern and calculating gaze, causing Octavia to avert her eyes instantly.

It was as clear as day; not only did Draco's father dislike her, there was definitely something going on between Lucius, Draco and Harry.


	12. Chapter 12

A Whole New World Chapter 12

* * *

The day of the Yule Ball had arrived, and to say that the atmosphere in the castle was jubilant would be an understatement. That entire day the students were buzzed with excitement, predominantly the girls, of course. Octavia was definitely jittery with anticipation, but couldn't get rid of the blasted plague of butterflies in her tummy. Her fingers and toes tingled with dancing nerves, anxiety causing surges of adrenaline to fire through her body.

For that very reason, she had avoided Draco at all costs for the whole weekend, especially that Saturday. Instead, she and Pansy hid in their dormitory room, frequently napping and pampering themselves to kill the impossibly slow time. But avoid she could do no longer, and the waiting had come close to an end. With the beginning of the Yule Ball less only twenty minutes away, Octavia sat at the black and green vanity desk by the wall, gussying up her appearance.

Pansy sat at the vanity desk beside Octavia, while Daphne used the wall length mirror at the other end of the room. All girls were dressed in their gowns, and their hair was done to perfection. Cosmetics were the final touches.

As Octavia painted on red lipstick to her plump lips, her hands quaked slightly from sheer nerves. Her hazel doe-eyes were accentuated with the blackest of eyeshadows and eyeliner, her complexion flawless by use of facials and contouring, and her lips were now a plum red, glistening invitingly. Well, she hoped that her lips were inviting, for that was precisely her intent. That evening, Octavia wished to experience her first ever kiss with none other than Draco Malfoy.

In saying that, Octavia was feeling more cowardly than ever before in her fourteen years of life. Her heart raced impossibly, her skin glistened with light perspiration and her spine tingled with nerves. It was most uncomfortable. Luckily for her, Pansy was in a similar state, so she took comfort in not being the only pansy in the room.

Octavia snatched a damp Wonder Witch cloth from the desk, using it to wipe at the excess cosmetics on her hands. She daren't risk getting any make-up on her dress. It had taken Octavia three weeks to find a dress she liked from one of Pansy's fashion magazines, and two weeks to convince her parents to send her the money for it. It was quite costly, but worth every knut.

The dress that adorned her featured a tight bodice, backless with a few beaded straps, and a layered ruffled skirt to die for. White strappy heels adorned her feet, faux crystals shining on the straps. Her curls were smoothed into soft and luscious ringlets that were clasped at the back of her head and tied into a bun. Loose tresses framed her painted face, and a pair of Pansy's expensive earring decorated her ears. All in all, she looked as though she was attending a Ball.

Pansy pushed herself from the vanity desk and approached the long mirror that Daphne was using. The two girls assessed their reflections before Pansy nodded once in approval. As she should, for she looked marvellous, dressed in her red silk dress.

"Well, let's do this, then." Pansy said hesitantly.

Octavia sighed as she stood up and quickly checked her attire in the long mirror before meeting Pansy by the door. Pansy led the way, opening the door and ascending the rough stone staircase with Octavia right behind her. Each clack of the heel brought them closer to their dates who were presumably waiting in the common room for their arrival. But each step only served to increase their nerves, and when they pushed through the final door into the common room, their hearts caught in their throats.

Draco and Harry were in the common room, as expected. But neither girl anticipated the sheer level of handsomeness that they would be met with when they reached their dates. Both boys were leaning against a nearby study desk, stopping their conversation at the sound of the girls' dormitory door closing.

They all froze. Draco's stormy silver eyes were fixed on Octavia's flushed face, both of them swallowing, at a loss for words. He wore black formal robes, the dark shade contrasting greatly with his marble-pale complexion, his hair combed to the side. Harry wore similar robes, but sported a white shirt, instead of Draco's black one. Harry's normally messy hair was tamed, much like Octavia's had been, and also combed to the side with an off-centred part.

Coming to their senses, the boys pushed themselves from the desk and approached their respective dates.

"You look amazing," Draco said, taking Octavia's hand in his.

She could only manage a fierce blush in response as he bowed slightly and kissed her knuckles, maintaining eye-contact with her as he did so. Harry had opted for the much more casual kiss on the cheek with Pansy.

Draco straightened his posture, a quirk to his lips as he released her hand and placed the palm of his hand on the small of her back. As they were now side-by-side, they didn't have to look at one another, which was great, because their blushes didn't seem to dissipate in the slightest thus far.

Harry and Pansy led the way out of the common room and to the main atrium of the castle, all four of them in complete silence. Truth be told, it was quite awkward. The four of them had only ever been friends before now- friends that flirted regularly. But now, as dates, their relationships were encountering a shift. A pleasant shift, but an awkward one too.

Professor Snape was waiting for their arrival in the atrium, standing with the other heads of house. Upon noticing the foursome as they ascended the stone steps from the dungeons, Snape raised his hand and curled his bony finger, beckoning them over.

"Champions over here, please!" Professor McGonagall said, shooing straggling students into the Great Hall. "Quickly, quickly now!"

After a few moments, all four champions and their respective dates stood before the Professors, all waiting anxiously for the following instructions. As they waited, Octavia glanced around at the others, doing a double take when she spotted Viktor Krum's date.

It was Hermione!

The fact that her cousin was Krum's date wasn't surprising, as she had been his treasure in the Black Lake. What was surprising, however, was the sheer unrecognisable appearance of Hermione Granger.

She had done something with her hair; it was no longer bushy but sleek and shiny, and twisted up into an elegant knot at the back of her head. Octavia thought fleetingly that Hermione had likely used the same potent sleeking potion from Wonder Witches product range. Hermione was wearing robes made of a floaty, periwinkle-blue material, and she was holding herself differently, somehow — or maybe it was merely the absence of the twenty or so books she usually had slung over her back. She was also smiling — rather nervously, it was true. All in all, Hermione was simply breath-taking.

The Grangers met one another's gazes, smiling at each other, but Octavia's shock was clear. Her eyes were wide, her brows raised and smiling lips parted slightly. A silly expression, but one that portrayed her reaction to her cousin's exquisite beauty in that moment. Who would have thought that Hermione had a gorgeous girl hiding beneath that bushy hair and those baggy robes all that time? Octavia hadn't, that's for sure.

Octavia's expression of awe quickly transformed into one of confusion. Hermione had glanced at O's date and her stunning features morphed into a scowl of disapproval. Hermione flicked her narrowed brown eyes to Octavia, pursing her lips at her frowning cousin before turning her attention to the Professors. How strange.

"I trust you are all prepared for the Noël Danse?" Professor McGonagall said, not pausing for a response. "Wonderful. When the doors open, you will walk with your partners down the centre of the Hall and take your places on the dancefloor. Remember, you are each representing your schools tonight, so I expect only grace and excellent manners at all times."

The group of students nodded in agreement, but half hardly told the truth in that gesture. For instance, Harry had a flask of fire-whiskey tucked securely inside his robes, with intent to spike the punch.

The doors to the Great Hall opened, revealing a winter wonderland of snowflakes and white Christmas trees. The sky above was a sparkling ivory, shedding snow that never reached the ground. The champions walked in pairs with their dates, down the parted attendees, heads held high. Octavia barely clung onto her nerve as they approached the dancefloor and took their assigned positions, the sheer dread of dancing in front of the entire school pooling in her tummy horridly.

The walls of the Hall had all been covered in sparkling silver frost, with hundreds of garlands of mistletoe and ivy crossing the starry black ceiling. The House tables had vanished; instead, there were about a hundred smaller, lantern-lit ones, each seating about a dozen people.

Swallowing audibly, Octavia allowed Draco to turn her body and pull it closer to his own, his hand on the small of her back and the other hand clasping hers delicately. Their gazes met, hazel and silver, and Octavia suddenly found that she couldn't breathe. Blasted butterflies fluttered in her tummy, which also seemed to have graduated with top marks from a gymnastics school. It summersaulted and twisted, churned and flipped. A pleasantly horrendous sensation. Not any more awful than the clenching and soaring of her heart, however.

She was certain that her anxiety and affection shone brightly in her eyes, for those were the very open doors to her soul. And in that moment, she could almost feel her soul pouring out and begging to touch his. To connect.

It was too much. Octavia hadn't felt this strongly in her entire life. It was awful. Torture. But oh-so brilliant and enthralling. She was so captured by her own powerful emotions that it took her a few moments to realise that she was dancing.

Draco held her at a respectable distance from himself, but guided her gracefully in the dance. Her heels clacked as she stepped backwards, Draco advancing on her before she twirled and found herself facing him again. His lips were twisted into a soft smile as they moved, a triumphant and overjoyed glint in his silvery eyes.

The sweet melody of the opening song resounded through the room like Christmas chimes, and halfway into the dance, others joined. Teachers and headmasters began to occupy the dancefloor, dancing with one another, and moments after, other students followed their lead.

By the close of the song, the dancefloor was full, and Draco and Octavia had much less space than before. Despite their limited space, Draco still was able to grab her waist and hoist her up in a graceful jump, Octavia smiling down at him with her hands grasping his shoulders tightly.

And then it happened. The oddest sensation. She burned red instantly.

As her hands held onto his shoulders, she could feel his muscles and definition through his robes. But that was not the peculiar part – it was the strange sensation in her lady parts. A tingle that she hadn't felt before. She knew what it was; Octavia was no fool when it came to her own body. She had always made sure to read up on the changes she faced by means of books in the shadows of the library. Not only that, her mother was not exactly averse to having 'the talk' with her whenever she could. So Octavia knew exactly what that tingle was, but as it was the first time she had experienced it, she was shocked and mortified beyond belief.

Draco placed her back down on the ground, pulling her body flush against hers and swaying her to the slowing melody of the song. Their bodies pressed together only increased the tingle to an outright blaze in her core. She daren't meet his eyes in that moment, lest he realise what was happening to her. So she fixed her horrified hazel eyes on his collarbone as the dance gradually ended, her cheeks rosy.

Thankfully for Octavia – and the fire in her core – the dance had ended and Draco pulled away from her slightly.

"Do you want to dance again?" Draco asked uncertainly, sensing her sudden withdrawal. "I can get you a drink, if you want?"

"A drink," Octavia nodded, allowing him to take her hand. "One that Harry's spiked."

She frowned as he led her through the crowd toward the tables with the beverage supplies, willing the flutter in her lady parts to disperse. It seemed that the butterflies had migrated, and to a place she never would have expected.

A wave of relief washed over her as they neared a table with familiar occupants surrounding it. Pansy sat on a chair, facing the dancefloor as she watched Harry slip the amber contents of his flask into the punch cauldron. Blaise was standing not too far away from Harry, talking to his date – a Beauxbatons girl that Octavia didn't know the name of. She was quite pretty. Theo sat at the table with his own date, a third year Ravenclaw, Octavia believed. The peculiar girl wore radish earrings, a white dress with an orange ruffle skirt, and small butterbeer corks stuffed into her hair.

Resisting the urge to laugh, Octavia approached her friends at the table as Draco released his hold on her. The handsome blond joined Harry by the spiked punch in the white frosted cauldron, scooping out the liquid and emptying it into two white goblets. He handed Octavia a goblet across the table before he turned to Harry and entered into a conversion – presumably regarding Theo's choice of date.

Sipping the fire-whiskey punch, Octavia seated herself next to Pansy at the table, a few chairs away from their scattered friends.

"That was simply nerve-wracking," Pansy complained, turning in her chair to face Octavia.

Octavia acted as though the girl hadn't even spoken, and immediately delved into an embarrassing discussion with hushed tones.

"I felt something," Octavia whispered, her cheeks burning red. "When I was dancing with Draco."

"Oh?" Pansy quirked her brow, her interest peaked. "Do tell."

"Something … something I …" Octavia stuttered, her eyes alight with mortification.

"Spit it out," Pansy encouraged, glancing around to ensure that they weren't overheard.

"Ok, but you can't tell anyone, alright?"

Pansy nodded in agreement, her black eyes glowing with gossipy intrigue.

"I felt something down there," Octavia whispered, leaning closer to her friend.

"Down where?" Pansy frowned.

"There," Octavia glanced pointedly at her crotch.

Pansy blinked a few times, staring at her friend without emotion before she erupted into a loud fit of giggles. Octavia scowled at Pansy, repeatedly glancing around to ensure that her laughing friend didn't draw any attention to them.

"Shut up!" Octavia hissed, certain that she was about to die from humiliation. "Shh! Pansy!"

"I- You can't-," Pansy tried to speak through her giggles, wiping at her tears of laughter. "It's –"

Octavia glowered at the brunette, waiting rather impatiently for Pansy to stop laughing at her expense. She waited a while. Once Pansy had settled down a little, her giggles subsided and she was no longer doubled over, Octavia puckered her lips and glared at the girl.

"You finished?" Octavia snapped.

"Yeah," Pansy laughed lightly, fanning herself with her hand. "Go on."

"There's not much else to say," Octavia frowned. "I just felt something and that's all."

"What did you feel?" Pansy pressed with a wide spread grin. "Details, please."

"Just … like a weird feeling," Octavia shrugged. "Like it ached but it was … nice."

Pansy snickered, shaking her head in disbelief and humour.

"He turned you on," Pansy grinned, her tone a mere whisper.

"Yeah, I know." Octavia scowled and blushed. "But I haven't felt that before. Mum said it's for older girls to feel."

"Your mum is full of shit," Pansy snickered. "The first time I felt it was a year ago."

"When you were thirteen?" Octavia gasped, her brows raised.

"Uh huh," Pansy nodded. "Don't get me wrong, I haven't _done_ anything, but I feel that way a lot."

"A lot?"

"Yeah."

"Like … when?"

"Usually around Harry," Pansy shrugged, her cheeks rosy. "When I watch him play Quidditch, mostly."

Octavia's mind was suddenly swarmed with images of Draco in his Quidditch gear. Tight sweaters, tight pants, all accentuating muscles that he shouldn't have, causing a reaction in her body that she was much too young to feel.

"Yup," Octavia nodded. "That does it."

"Don't worry," Pansy grinned. "It'll go away. You don't have to … you know … do it with Draco for it to go away."

"How do I make it go away?"

"Well," Pansy smirked. "That's a question for the health books, I think."

"Ok." Octavia nodded.

She had decided that the library would be the first place she would venture to the next morning.

"Hey, Tavs!" Blaise called out, beckoning her over to him.

Octavia glanced at him by the wall before standing from her chair and tottering over.

"What's up?" Octavia smiled.

"Have you met Halsie?" Blaise said, introducing his date to her.

The French girl eyed Octavia with mild interest and noticeable disdain.

"Eet iz a pleasure," the Beauxbatons girl lied, curling her upper lip and raising her hand.

Octavia took her hand and shook it roughly, a sweet smile plastered onto her face.

"The pleasure is all yours," Octavia said, Blaise rolling his eyes.

"Play nice," Blaise teased.

"You came here withz Draco Malfoy, no?" Halsie asked, glancing at Draco by the table as he laughed with Harry. "He iz a pureblood, no?"

"I guess he is, if you believe in blood purity," Octavia shrugged.

"I do." Halsie stated firmly, her response and expression speaking volumes.

"Good for you," Octavia droned.

She gave Blaise a disapproving look before sniffing snootily.

"Tavs is a good friend of mine," Blaise explained, a sternness to his tone.

Octavia smiled at her Italian friend, allowing him to drape his arm over her shoulders.

"You look beautiful, by the way," Blaise said.

"I know," Octavia smirked as he laughed.

"Modesty is a good look on you," Blaise teased.

The French girl looked as though she had smelled something putrid as she glanced between O and Blaise, her lips wrinkled and pursed together.

"Iz 'e your boyfriend?" Halsie asked, jerking her head toward Draco.

"Oh …" Octavia frowned, taken aback by the question. "I … uh … no. He isn't."

Octavia wanted nothing more than to say that he was, but it wouldn't be the truth. If the French twat was to ask Draco directly, Octavia would be utterly humiliated if he were to answer honestly. And why wouldn't he? So it was best to employ honesty in that moment.

Halsie nodded thoughtfully, her gaze on the back of Draco's head. Octavia didn't understand the girl's interest in Draco, for she had attended the Ball with a pureblood of equal attractiveness, and considerable wealth. It was evidently something that mattered to Halsie, so why bother trying to poach Octavia's date?

Although, Octavia was aware that the Malfoys were a powerful family, not just in Britain, but in Europe. And as the Malfoys were of French descent, it was likely that they were known in that part of the world. Regardless, Octavia was incredibly offended by the lack of discretion this girl displayed.

As Octavia was not a pureblood, and had not been raised to know their ways, she suddenly felt like an outsider looking in. As if she didn't belong and had no right to be Draco's date. She wasn't _pure_ enough.

Shooting Blaise a misaimed look of judgement, Octavia shrugged his arm off his shoulder and stormed over to Draco. Before she reached her date, however, she noticed her cousin at a table ahead, sitting by herself.

Changing direction, Octavia weaved by her group of pureblood friends and approached the muggle-born Hermione instead. It would do her some good to be around someone who had shared a similar upbringing. With Hermione, Octavia didn't feel like an outsider.

As she approached her cousin, Octavia smiled in a greeting before plopping herself down on the seat beside her.

"Where's Krum?" Octavia asked, looking around at the other tables.

"He's dancing," Hermione sighed. "I hope he doesn't want to dance all night; my feet are already hurting."

Octavia grinned at the weakness of her otherwise strong cousin, taking great pride in her own resilience when it came to the pain of stilettos.

"So …" Octavia sang, nudging her cousin on the arm. "What's the go with you and Krum, then?"

"Not much," Hermione shrugged. "He asked me to the Ball, and I said yes."

"Well, something's obviously happened before that, 'cause you were his treasure in the lake, weren't you?"

"We spend some time together in the library," Hermione said. "We study together, but don't talk much."

"Why not?"

"He's a quiet person," Hermione said, a coldness to her tone.

"Do you like him?"

"He's nice," Hermione nodded. "A gentleman and very respectful."

Octavia nodded, finding that she didn't have much else to say. Hermione's tone made it quite difficult to continue a conversation with her, so she sighed and watched the dancing students ahead.

"How can you come to the Ball with him?" Hermione snapped after a few minutes of silence.

Octavia raised her brows in surprise, turning to face her incredulous-looking cousin.

"What?"

"With Malfoy," Hermione spat. "How can you come to the Ball with _him_ of all people."

"What do you mean?" Octavia frowned, utterly perplexed.

"He's a racist, prejudicial pureblood who thinks he's better than everyone else!"

"No he isn't," Octavia scrunched up her nose.

"Oh?" Hermione scoffed. "What about all those times that he called me a _mudblood_? Did you forget about that?"

"He never was a racist," Octavia sighed. "He was young and … taught to believe those things. Draco isn't like that."

"I don't trust him," Hermione said, shaking her head. "He's … Something's not right with him."

"Way to hold a grudge," Octavia rolled her eyes.

"It's not a grudge, Octavia." Hermione scolded. "I can see it. He's not what you think he is. He isn't _who_ you think he is."

"You think you know Draco better than I do?" Octavia quirked her brow, a bitter smirk on her lips.

"I think you should stay away from him," Hermione said quietly. "He's different when you're not around. The way he acts and treats people …"

"Yeah, he's a bully," Octavia sighed. "I know."

"It's more than that." Hermione shook her head. "I don't like it, Octavia. Stay away from him; he's dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Octavia snorted.

"Look, I realise that you're loving your little fantasy land where there's nothing but good people and fairies, but I'm telling you," Hermione hissed, pointing her finger at O accusingly. "He is bad news. Stay away from him, Octavia."

"Fucking hell," Octavia snapped, jumping up from her chair. "I'm not gonna sit here and listen to this crap just 'cause you have a vendetta against him."

Before Hermione could respond, Octavia stormed off toward the table by the doors, where a few of her friends were seated. A few, but not all.

Octavia frowned as she reached the table, not spotting Draco anywhere. Blaise and the French girl were missing too.

"He's in the foyer," Harry said as Octavia approached.

She nodded as she frowned and tottered out of the Great Hall into the atrium. There were scattered pairs and groups of students loitering in the grand foyer, but she spotted her date in a matter of seconds.

Draco reclined against the wall beside Blaise. Halsie stood in front of Blaise, her fingertips dancing over his arm, and a friend of hers fawned over Draco. The girl wasn't touching Draco, but she was definitely flirting shamelessly with him. While Draco appeared to be completely unreceptive to the French girl's advances, Octavia surged with rage and saw red. She saw no reason. She didn't care that Draco looked disinterested, she only cared that he seemingly allowed the girl to flirt with him without preventing it. She cared that he had left the Great Hall without telling her and stayed in the foyer with a French wench. She cared that Hermione had upset her, and now Draco only added fuel to the fire.

Her hands balled into little fists as she glared at the foursome, neither of them noticing her presence. Inhaling deeply through her nostrils, Octavia swallowed back an insult that dared to slip from her tongue. Or was that a sob? She didn't know for sure.

Oh. No, that was definitely a sob.

Tears stung at her livid hazel eyes, and Octavia decided to get the hell out of there before she embarrassed herself. She was already too humiliated. Her date had abandoned her for a girl that was presumably something that Octavia was not; a pureblood.

Octavia's face scrunched up as the tears built quickly, and she took off, scurrying through the foyer toward the Slytherin dungeons. As she scrambled down the stone staircase, she heard Draco calling out after her. But she kept running. Her legs carried her as fast as they could, her hands clutching the front of her pretty dress and holding up the hem of the skirt. Her heels clacked loudly, the sound bouncing off the stone walls as she raced through the dungeons, tears leaking out of her pained hazel eyes.

"Octavia!" Draco shouted, the heavy sound of his footsteps coming closer. "Octavia, wait up!"

A stifled sob escaped her painted plump lips as she veered off onto another corridor, gaining closer on the retreat she sought; the Slytherin common room.

"Octavia, what's wrong?" Draco shouted, running after her hurriedly. "Wait! Fucking stop, Octavia!"

She pressed her hand against the course stone wall to steady herself before she took off at a fast sprint down the final corridor, seeing the gargoyle ahead that would grant her entry.

"What the fuck, O?" Draco bellowed, gaining on her as she stumbled to a stop at the gargoyle.

"Salazar Slytherin," Octavia blubbered, the gargoyle nodding once and opening the door to the common room.

Draco's footsteps were hot on her tail as she bolted through the door, running through the common room toward the girl's dormitories. She sprinted by a few students that had either retired early, or were quite late to the Ball, tears streaking down her cheeks. She reached the door, but before she could clutch the handle, she was shoved against the rough stone wall harshly.

Octavia grunted from the impact, scowling up at Draco as he trapped her between the wall and his hard body, his hands pressed against the wall on either side of her head.

"What the fuck is your problem, O?" Draco asked with a mixture of anger and concern.

"You are!" Octavia shouted, tears streaming down her face as she shoved uselessly at his chest. "Don't talk to me - let me go!"

"What happened?" Draco frowned as she slapped at his chest. He didn't budge. "What did I do?"

"Get away!" Octavia screeched, her theatrics gaining the attentions of the other students in the common room. "Let me go, you worm!"

Draco furrowed his brow as he stared down at her, angry but pleading and confused.

"Tell me what I did," Draco pleaded, not allowing her an escape. "Tell me, and I'll let you go."

"Why don't you just go back to your French whore?!" Octavia shouted in his face, her chest heaving as adrenaline surged through her body, drowning out the pain in her heart.

"What are you talking about? She was flirting with me, not the other way round O," Draco said, his brows knitted together as he assessed her worriedly.

"Yeah, well you didn't do much to stop it did you? Bet you loved that she was a pureblood, right? Why bother with the muggle-born, when you have a purebl-"

"Stop!" Draco shouted down at her. "What the fuck has this got to do with blood?"

"You let her flirt with you!" Octavia screeched. "Because she's one of you, right?"

"I told her I took you to the Ball and I was speaking about you the whole time!" Draco barked, his molten silver eyes boring into her water hazel orbs. "I told her I was going to ask you to be my girlfriend tonight! I don't give a shit about her blood or yours, Octavia! Are you fucking kidding me? After everything, you think I care that you're a muggle-born?"

"Don't you fucking yell at me, Draco Malfoy!" Octavia screeched, slapping her hands against his chest.

He only pushed himself closer to her, his jaw clenching tightly as the others in the common room watched with glee.

"I won't have to raise my voice when you stop acting like a bitch!" Draco shouted.

"How dare you!" Octavia shrieked before she slapped him across the face.

Draco flinched at the assault, bowing his head as he clenched his jaw tightly. His eyelids shut as he seemingly prayed for patience, steadying his breathing for a few moments.

He exhaled deeply as he opened his eyes, molten silver meeting livid hazel. Octavia blinked up at him innocently, feigning innocence as the reality of what she had just done hit her.

Draco frowned before he grabbed her face with both hands, tilting her head upwards and crashing his lips onto hers. Her brows shot up in surprise, his lips pressed harshly against hers, his fingers clutching her temples firmly.

Suddenly, Octavia's eyes fluttered shut, her tummy flipped and heart soared wildly. Her plump lips parted with his, their tongues meeting and caressing passionately. His body pressed harshly against hers, her hands clutching at his now-dishevelled hair as she melted against him.

Her eyes no longer leaked tears, and his thumbs brushed away the dampness on her cheeks. Their tongues danced together, each tasting the other as though it would be the last time. Four years of his longing for her poured into her mouth as he kissed her passionately, the soft plump skin of their lips smooshed together.

The onlookers had dispersed, losing interest when they had realised that Draco Malfoy wasn't going to hex the girl. Instead, he kissed her with everything he had, groaning into her mouth as he received what he had desired for so long.

Their lips didn't part, but their tongues separated and they breathed unevenly into each other's mouths. His hands still cupped her face firmly, their swollen and damp lips still connected.

"I only ever want to kiss you." Draco breathed against her lips. "It's only ever been you, since the moment I first saw you and you shouted at me like a crazy person."

Octavia grinned against his lips, recalling that blurry memory. She had been quite awful to him back then. She was still awful to him now. Yet, here he was, after years of caring for her, never giving up. It had paid off, for he had won her over in the end. Gradually, but he had her.

In heart and soul, she was his.


	13. Chapter 13

A Whole New World Chapter 13

* * *

Octavia should have been on cloud nine. She should have been so elated that she skipped through the castle grounds as opposed to trudging, like she was doing in that very moment. But she wasn't elated, nor was she skipping. There was no bounce in her step or sparkle in her eye. No. There was only apprehension and fear.

It radiated from her as she plodded with the others down the muddy grass slope. They were surrounded by the other students of each participating school in the Tournament. All making their way to the stands that would provide a view of the third task.

Octavia feared for her boyfriend. _Boyfriend_. It sounded strange. Octavia Granger and Draco Malfoy; boyfriend and girlfriend. Octavia Granger Malfoy. Lady Octavia Malfoy.

Ok, she was getting a bit carried away.

Refocusing her mind to the worries she felt, Octavia dismissed the daydream that dared to distract her. Daydreams that consisted of her marrying Draco, and then having lots of children with him. This is what three months of dating Draco had done to her. She had turned into a love-sick girl who doodled their names together in textbooks and on parchments.

Unfortunately, Draco had once skimmed through her Potions notebook and came across one of her more humiliating scribbles: L.O.V.E. It was a game that she and Pansy played at times, where you calculated the number of times each letter appeared in the names of the player and their crush (or boyfriend). A percentage of compatibility was the result, and somehow correlated with real life connections. If Octavia dropped her middle name in the calculations, she and Draco got a whopping 96%. And that just so happened to be the scribblings that Draco had seen.

Of course, Octavia was incredibly mortified and had proceeded to whack him repeatedly on the arm with her notebook. He had only laughed and kissed her. Octavia suspected that he took great joy in her love bubble for him, and with good cause. For he had been in a one-sided romance with her for close to four years, so she allowed him a little joy in how the tables had turned. Now they were on equal footing; equally as mad about one another, equally as flustered when they kissed in the alcoves of the dungeons. It was all very sweet and exciting.

But now was not the time to think of such things. She only had room for concern that day. For it was the day of the final task.

"Come on!" Blaise hollered, snapping Octavia out of her reverie. "We still have time!"

Time? Oh that's right.

The rest of the Slytherin clique were making their way down toward the champions, and not the stands. They had agreed to wish Harry and Draco final bids of good luck before seating themselves for the task. Honestly, Octavia was present for that decision, but her mind was like mush when she got distracted by thoughts of Draco. She had even changed her outfit six times, knowing that she would encounter Draco's parents before the task. Her boyfriend's parents. Her handsome and kind boyfriend. Her _boyfriend_.

"Tavs!" Blaise bellowed, annoyed at her dazed straggling. "Hurry up!"

"Right," Octavia nodded, pushing all thoughts of Draco out of her mind. "I'm coming, I'm coming."

Blaise glowered at her a few metres ahead, but stopped and waited for her to scurry over unevenly.

"Were heels really the best option?" Blaise drawled, glancing down at her stilettoes.

"Yeah," Octavia breathed, struggling to scamper down the hill without toppling over.

Blaise threw his head back and willed himself to be blessed with patience. He exhaled slowly before returning his gaze to the waddling girl and extended his hand.

"Come on," Blaise sighed as she took his hand for balance.

"Thanks," Octavia smiled, but he didn't return the gesture.

Blaise clasped his hand around hers and helped her tread through the grassy grounds of the castle toward the stands and massive maze ahead. Pansy and Theo walked ahead, their impatience not allowing them to wait for the others. Pansy practically jogged toward the entrance of the bushy maze, right in the direction of the congregated champions, judges and parents.

"What's that for?" Blaise asked, eyeing the pink ribbon in her other hand.

"For Draco," Octavia said as though it were obvious. "It's my lucky ribbon."

"You don't have a lucky ribbon," Blaise scoffed.

"I do now," Octavia scowled, tottering unevenly beside him.

"Naturally," Blaise rolled his eyes.

Octavia bit back a retort as they approached the cluster of champions and judges, Blaise still holding her hand and escorting her toward Draco. His back was to them as he spoke with his parents, Lucius Malfoy as stoic as ever, Narcissa appearing rather concerned. O couldn't blame her, really. It was a dangerous tournament, and the final task was sure to be the worst yet.

Harry was laughed as Pansy threw herself into his arms, Sirius standing with them as he greeted Theo with a firm handshake. The group was only a metre or so away from the Malfoys, and Draco noticed the appearance of Pansy. As though hoping Octavia was close behind the brunette, Draco stopped listening to his father, turned around and scanned the area.

A smile twisted at his lips as he noticed Octavia approaching with the help of Blaise. Draco and Blaise inclined their heads at one another, Blaise releasing Octavia's hand. Octavia wasted not a moment before she scurried over to Draco excitedly.

He stepped forward to meet her and grinned widely when she lunged at him. Draco wrapped his arms around her upper body, her feet dangling above the ground as they embraced tightly. Her face nuzzled into the nook of his neck, reluctant to let go of him. For if she let go, it would allow him to part from her. If he parted from her, he would go into the maze, and Merlin knows what would happen in there.

"Alright, Tavs," Blaise drawled after a moment. "Let him breathe."

Octavia scowled as she reluctantly untangled herself from Draco, finding that Blaise had been very much prat-like for a while now. He was beginning to grate on her nerves, which was quite unusual. Octavia normally had a very high tolerance for Blaise's sarcasm and teasing, but of late, the humour had gone from his tone.

"Here," Octavia said as Draco lowered her to the ground.

She extended her hand and offered him the pink ribbon.

"For luck," Octavia smiled.

Draco grinned, taking the ribbon from her and tying it around his wrist.

"This is the ribbon you wore in your hair," Draco said, securing it tightly. "At the first task, right?"

"Yeah," Octavia beamed, giddy with glee that he recalled her accessory that day, many months ago.

Cupping the back of her head with one hand, Draco pulled her closer to him and kissed her forehead gently. It only caused her to blush profusely.

He pulled away and glanced over his shoulder at his parents before meeting her gaze again. Her eyes widened as he smirked and took her wrist in his hand, guiding her toward the other Malfoys. The not-so-friendly ones. Well, to her at least.

"Octavia, meet my mother and _father_ ," Draco introduced, the last word laced with something that Octavia couldn't quite put her finger on.

"A pleasure to meet you, dear," Narcissa smiled, inclining her head marginally.

"Indeed," Lucius drawled coolly. "We have heard so much about you."

"Oh," Octavia smiled bashfully. "Well … uh, good things, I hope."

"Yes," Narcissa smiled. "Draco has been quite taken with you for years. You are all he ever talks about."

"Mother," Draco frowned, his blush matching O's.

"Fortunately, you have not distracted my son from his studies," Lucius drawled, looking down his nose at her. "Draco does us proud with his impressive grades. And you, Octavia? How does your academic performance fare?"

"I hardly think that her grades are of importance," Draco said coldly, the two Malfoy men locking eyes.

There was a dreadfully uncomfortable silence that appeared, Octavia wiggling her feet anxiously as Draco and Lucius shared a cool stare.

"I suppose not," Lucius said after a moment. Although his tone and disdainful expression said otherwise.

"Well, it was lovely to meet you Octavia," Narcissa said, her voice like that of an angel's. "I do not believe it will be the last time we meet."

Octavia smiled at the woman and nodded, but felt a little rejected. For while Narcissa was polite as ever, she had essentially told her to leave.

"Um," Octavia turned and looked up at Draco. "I'll be on the stands. Good luck."

"Thank you," Draco smirked before kissing the top of her head. "But I do not need luck."

Octavia laughed at his arrogance and gave a final wave of goodbye to his parents. She turned and scurried over to Blaise who was waiting a few metres away, looking incredibly bored.

"Ready?" Octavia asked, coming to a stop in front of him.

Blaise eyed her coolly for a moment before nodding and turning on his heels. He didn't offer her his hand to balance her, so she trotted and stumbled behind him, trying to keep his brisk pace.

They were quickly joined by Pansy and Theo as they reached the stands and climbed up the wooden stairs to the front row.

"Move," Blaise snapped to a group of first year Hufflepuffs.

The young Hufflepuff students didn't hesitate as they all got to their feet and scrambled away to a row further up. Blaise and the others took the now-vacant seats, getting front-row view of the maze. It hardly helped; the maze was so big, and the hedges were so tall that no one could see inside. But that wouldn't stop Octavia from staring at the maze intently for the duration of the task, as though it would somehow assist Draco.

Draco. Her boyfriend.

Did you know that Draco is her boyfriend?

* * *

"On my whistle, Harry and Draco!" said Ludo Bagman.

The two Hogwarts champions nodded, approaching the opening of the maze together, side by side. Everyone had seated themselves for the beginning of the final task, including the judges that convened at a long table on the grass.

"Three — two — one —" Bagman gave a short blast on his whistle, Harry and Draco hurrying forward into the maze.

The towering hedges cast black shadows across the path, and, whether because they were so tall and thick or because they had been enchanted, the sound of the surrounding crowd was silenced the moment they entered the maze. Harry felt almost as though he were underwater again. He pulled out his wand, muttered, "Lumos," and heard Draco do the same just beside him. After about fifty yards, they reached a fork. They looked at each other.

This was the true test, right here. Together or separate. It would determine everything. Not in the silly task or tournament that they cared naught for. No. It set the precedent for everything else; their futures.

"Semper nobis duabus," Harry grinned.

Draco nodded once, and they both remained together as they took the path on the left. Surrounded by hedges twenty-feet long, they walked down the narrow passage, wands gripped firmly in their hands and raised. The sound of the whistle shrilled through the maze. Krum had entered. Harry and Draco sped up through the seemingly deserted path. They turned right onto another and hurried onwards. Harry had raised his wand above his head as they ran, providing light, while allowing Draco's wand to aim ahead, ready to attack should they encounter a threat.

Bagman's whistle blew in the distance for the third time. All of the champions were now inside. Harry and Draco kept looking behind them. The old feeling that they were being watched was upon them. The maze was growing darker with every passing minute as the sky overhead deepened to navy. They reached a second fork.

"Point Me," Draco whispered to his wand, holding it flat in his palm.

The wand spun around once and pointed toward his right, into a solid hedge. That way was north, and he knew that he needed to go northwest for the centre of the maze. The best he could do was to guide them through the left fork and go right again as soon as possible. The path ahead was empty too, and when they reached a right turn and took it, they found his way unblocked.

Harry didn't know why, but the lack of obstacles was unnerving him. Surely he should have met something by now? It felt as though the maze was luring him into a false sense of security. If Draco felt the same unease, he didn't show it. He trudged on, stoic as ever. A rustling came from a nearby passageway and they held out their wands, ready to attack.

But the beam of Harry's wand fell only upon Fleur, who had just hurried out of a path on the right-hand side. She looked severely shaken. The sleeve of her battle attire was smoking. "Blaz-Ended 'krewtz!" she hissed in her thick accent. "They iz enormous — I only juz' got away!"

She shook her head and dived out of sight, along another path. Keen to put plenty of distance between themselves and the skrewts, Harry and Draco hurried off again. Then, as he turned a corner, they saw . . . Lucius Malfoy strolling toward them. Draco and Harry remained side by side, frowning in bafflement at the aristocrat. Draco tightened his grip on his wand, his suspicions peaked as he stepped in front of Harry. Lucius vibrated before he dispersed entirely and took the form of a terrified Octavia. Only she wasn't really her; she was a boggart. Before she could part her plump lips to say what Draco feared most, he flicked his wand and shouted, _"Riddikulus_!"

There was a loud crack, and the shape-shifter exploded in a wisp of smoke. The silver wolf faded from sight. They moved on, quickly and quietly as possible, listening hard, wands held high. Left . . . right . . . left again . . . Twice they found themselves facing dead ends. Draco did the Compass Spell again and found that they were going too far east. They turned back, took a right turn, and saw an odd golden mist floating ahead.

Harry approached it cautiously, pointing the wand's beam at it, Draco right beside him. It looked like some kind of enchantment. Harry wondered whether he might be able to blast it out of the way. "Reducto!" he said. The spell shot straight through the mist, leaving it intact. He supposed he should have known better; the Reductor Curse was for solid objects, but it was worth a try. What would happen if he walked through the mist? Was it worth chancing it, or should he double back? He was still hesitating when a scream shattered the silence.

"Fleur," Draco said, confirming what they both already knew.

"One down, one to go," Harry grinned wolfishly.

Draco nodded, his silver eyes fixed on the golden mist. It twinkled invitingly, promising nothing but innocent intent. Fleetingly, he thought of Octavia.

"It's a trap." Draco said with a smirk.

"How bad can it be?" Harry frowned, eyeing the mist curiously.

Draco grinned widely, his silver eyes glowing in the dimness. "Bad."

"How do you know?"

"It's the lover's mist." Draco said. "It'll turn you upside down and inside out."

"I know the feeling," Harry grumbled, both of them backing away from the mist.

Draco almost laughed when it sparkled innocently at him, reminding him very much of Octavia.

They returned to the path they had come from and journeyed further down. They saw red sparks breaking through the darkness above.

"That'll be Fleur," Harry said, Draco nodding as they veered left.

A Blast-Ended Skrewt met them as they took a right, both Slytherins freezing before aiming their wands right at it. The massive creature – no less than ten feet long – spit flames of fire out of its scorpion like tail. Draco and Harry dived out of the way just in time, both colliding with the hedges that flanked the path.

Draco dropped his wand in the process, but waved his hand and blasted the creature to oblivion. Its guts exploded and splattered the leaves of the hedges, nothing remaining except a simmering sheet of fire on the gooey ground.

"Nice," Harry nodded as they got to their feet, Draco snatching his wand from the grass.

Draco performed the Compass Spell again, the wand pointing straight ahead.

They didn't speak as they took off at a run ahead, their wands only illuminating a few yards in front of them. Red sparks shot up from the left, no more than two paths away.

"Just us, buddy." Harry grinned as they ran forward.

Draco clenched his jaw and frowned, but didn't respond. The two fell silent as they ran, a part of each of them beginning to nag. Yes, they were meant to complete the tasks as a team of two, but it did set the precedent for everything to come after. Did they really want that? It was a big commitment. Life changing. World changing.

They didn't have long to make their choices. For they no longer required the illumination of their wands, having reached a large square area of the maze. The centre.

A pedestal was erected in the middle of the space, a glowing silver and blue cup atop. The Triwizard Cup. The _champion's_ cup.

They both came to a stop right in front of the pedestal, neither touching it, but neither lowering their wands. Suddenly, they whipped around to face each other, each pressing the searing tip of their wands against the other's throat. Molten silver met darkening green as the air thickened impossibly.

Harry frowned and blinked once or twice, taking a step back from Draco. He lowered his wand slowly, very slowly, keeping his green eyes on his friend's stare. Draco mirrored Harry's actions, lowering his wand in time with Harry's.

"Semper nobis duabus," Draco said, stuffing his wand into his thigh-holster.

Harry grinned and extended his free hand, Draco taking it. They didn't shake hands. They just stood there, arms extended and hands clasped together tightly. Blood dripped from their connected palms, but from where? It was hard to tell. Neither of them were fazed by the blood, in fact, it looked as though they had expected it.

Slowly, their hands parted, blood smeared over their fingers and palms, drops of the crimson liquid falling to the ground where it sizzled. How strange.

Raising their blooded – yet entirely unscathed – hands, Harry and Draco traced their fingertips over the handles of the cup, smearing them with blood.

They both nodded at one another before snatching the handles of the cup at the same time, magic blasting the hedges around them to smithereens. Suddenly, the cup buzzed and glowed, evidently a portkey beginning to activate. It shone with brilliant rays of magic and took the champions away from the chaos of the square.

Draco and Harry grunted as they landed perfectly on their feet by the entrance of the maze. The maze that showed no signs whatsoever of destruction. The crowd erupted into applause.

"Our Triwizard Champions: Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy!"

* * *

A/N: Love Game Example:

 _Octavia Granger_

 _L.O.V.E.S_

 _Draco Lucius Malfoy_

 _22011=4212=633=96%_


	14. Chapter 14

A Whole New World Chapter 14

* * *

Voldemort. You-Know-Who. The Dark Lord. The vile creature who went by many names. Names that Octavia never thought she'd hear so much in her life. Occasionally, the once defeated sorcerer would come up in conversation, when people made reference to how those dark times effected their families, or even in History of Magic where he was relevant. Octavia didn't think that he was relevant now, but she appeared to be wrong.

Since Draco and Harry won the Triwizard Tournament together back in May, strange things had been happening. At least, there were _claims_ of strange occurrences, but no one knew for certain. That's what made it all impossibly mysterious- the ambiguity, the lies in the shadows, the reassurance from the Ministry. Who does one believe? That was a question that every person in the magical world should ask themselves. For it meant to pick a side.

A side …

There shouldn't be sides to choose from; the magical world should be united and not torn apart. But it was. It was fracturing and tearing, shifting apart like tectonic plates. The consequence of which met them in the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

A woman sat at the now-pink desk, reminding Octavia of Gilderoy Lockhart fleetingly. He had been assaulted by a 'rabid pack' of Cornish Pixies which had scarred his face, therefore resigned from his position years ago to preserve what was left of his beauty. Octavia almost preferred the incapable Lockhart to this toad of a women, though. A pudgy thing, but that mattered naught. It was the false smile on her face, the importance of her raised blobby chin and nose, the overkill of pink and fluff that decorated her. Actually, if Octavia had to describe the woman as best she could, she would suggest that one go to their grandmother's home, find the pinkest, fluffiest and ugliest tea-cosy, put it on a tea-pot, and wallah! You have yourself a replica of Professor Umbridge.

"Ahem," the teapot spoke as the students piled into the classroom. "Boys on the left and girls on the right, please."

Holding hands tightly, Draco and Octavia frowned and shared a look of disbelief. It seemed that the teapot was supportive of gender segregation. Shrugging, Octavia released Draco's hand and the students parted, some dawdling, caught off-guard by the change of seating arrangements that had been in place for four whole years.

"Wands away, and pull out your textbooks to page twenty-three," Umbridge said in what Octavia assumed to be an attempt at a 'cute' voice.

If that was the case, she failed miserably.

Dropping into her seat beside Pansy, Octavia glowered at the plump woman for ruining their seating arrangements. Octavia and Pansy had always shared a desk in this class, but in the desk in front would normally be Harry and Draco, and behind, Theo and Blaise. Now the two Slytherin girls were in between Hermione and Fay Dunbar, and Lavender and Parvarti. Even though one of them was her cousin, Octavia had to admit that it felt quite awkward to be seated in the middle of Gryffindors.

The scraping of chairs, rustling of bags and grumbling of the students was all that could be heard for a few moments as everyone pulled out their textbooks. This year, their textbook was a little on the childish side; _'Defensive Magical Theory'_. Octavia had flicked through it already, finding that it possessed no usual information whatsoever. It was as the title suggested – the _theory_ of defensive magic, and in no way assisted with the practical side.

"Now," the toad smiled as she rose from her chair, her hands flat on her desk. "Has anyone read the text assigned?"

Hermione's hand shot up into the air, causing a few students to roll their eyes at her predictability.

"Miss Granger, is it?" Umbridge asked sweetly, but her eyes were as cold as ice.

"Yes, Professor." Hermione nodded, dropping her hand. "I've read the whole book."

"Well, then, you should be able to tell me what Slinkhard says about counter-jinxes in Chapter Fifteen."

"He says that counter-jinxes are improperly named. He says 'counter-jinx' is just a name people give their jinxes when they want to make them sound more acceptable. But I disagree... Mr Slinkhard doesn't like jinxes, does he? But I think they can be very useful when they're used defensively." Hermione said importantly, waiting for the inevitable praise that should come.

"Oh, you do, do you? Well, I'm afraid it is Mr Slinkhard's opinion, and not yours, that matters within this classroom, Miss Granger."

A few of the students (mostly Slytherins, of course) snickered as Hermione went pale. Umbridge hummed a strange noise of self-pride as she walked around her desk and leaned back against it, facing the class.

"I want all of you to copy the first two chapters onto parchment," Umbridge announced in a sickening soft tone. "There will be no need for chatter or dillydallying. Begin now."

Some students went straight to work, but most frowned and glanced around at each other.

"Excuse me, Professor?" Hermione said, raising her hand as Umbridge stared at her expectantly. "Is this an assignment?"

"No."

"Are we handing in the parchment at the end of the class?" Hermione asked, her brows knitted together.

"No," Umbridge said.

"I'm sorry Professor, but I do not see how this task will teach us to use defensive spells-"

" _Use_ defensive spells?" Umbridge laughed in a squeaking noise that made Octavia scrunch up her face in annoyance. "I do not see why you would need to _use_ defensive magic."

"In case we are attacked, Professor," Hermione said, her dislike for the woman evident in her tone alone.

"Silly child," Umbridge said condescendingly. "You will write out the chapters and study Defence Against the Dark Arts in a secure and risk-free environment. After all, you are only children, and should not be meddling in things that you do not need, nor understand. Begin."

The class fell into a silence as they set about beginning the mundane task assigned. They were all sure to have aching fingers and wrists by the end of the double period, but Umbridge didn't seem to mind. She had already reseated herself at her desk and poured pink tea from a pink teapot into a pink teacup. Octavia suspected that the woman liked pink.

After about ten minutes, although it felt like an hour, some of the students became restless. Murmurs began to seep into the silence, accompanied by the scratching of quills, which Octavia found to be quite therapeutic actually.

"There will be no need to talk," Umbridge said, looking up from her pink teacup.

"More like no need to think," Hermione mumbled under her breath, only a few hearing her retort.

Octavia snickered, but quickly stopped as Umbridge glanced at her. Octavia bit her lip and pretended to be in deep concentration before she nodded to herself and scribbled down a few more lines on her parchment scroll. A dishonest charade, but the Professor said nothing and returned her attention to her tea.

Octavia didn't understand the value of the woman in the castle. It was announced at the start of term in the Great Hall that the unqualified Professor had joined the faculty at Hogwarts. Obviously, the Ministry of Magic was behind her position at the school, but Octavia couldn't make sense of it.

The rumours that had begun to circulate over the past few months were likely to be the cause. Dark happenings were at play, according to some. Hermione was one of them. She had spent the whole summer trying to convince Octavia to believe the exact opposite of what the _Daily Prophet_ had been printing. The muggle news on the tele and in newspaper reported – almost daily – that random terrorist attacks had been occurring all over Britain. The London Bridge had been blown up by use of explosives, the parliament house had been destroyed, Edinburgh Castle had been reduced to rubble. But Octavia believed it to be actual terrorist attacks from other muggles, not wizards or witches.

Hermione insisted otherwise. She, like many others, including Dumbledore himself, believed that it was the return of Death Eaters. The more radical belief was that it was the return of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. But Octavia didn't believe that. The sorcerer had died long ago, and no one came back from the dead. If somehow these attacks were performed by Death Eaters, it would not be due to the return of Voldemort. It would be nostalgic murderers taking power into their own prejudicial hands.

In saying that, Octavia couldn't deny the darkness that she felt in the wizarding world. When she had shopped for her school supplies in Diagon Alley, the street was much less vibrant than ever before. It had a thick atmosphere, laced with fear and unease. Even Hogwarts did not possess its usual welcoming ambiance, no longer sparkling with magic, but tense with segregation. That is what had happened; segregation. Between those very few who believed Dumbledore, and the much larger group that thought him to be a total crackpot. Octavia belonged to the latter.

Talk of a prophecy had emerged, but where the speculation had sprouted was beyond Octavia's comprehension. Hermione seemed to know pieces of the rumour, but how she came to possess the vapour of information was, again, beyond Octavia's comprehension. It wasn't like details were frequently printed in the _Daily Prophet_. This had caused Octavia to have the absolute opposite reaction to Hermione; suspicion and mistrust.

Octavia loved her cousin, let's be clear on that. But like? Well, that was a different story altogether. And Hermione's unjust and unsupported paranoia had certainly damaged their relationship over the summer. Perhaps beyond repair. Too many arguments had occurred between the two, one Granger righteous and obsessed with her silly conspiracy theories, and the other snooty and judgemental.

If Hermione had approached the subject with a different tactic, perhaps they would still be on speaking terms. But she hadn't, and Hermione had thought it best to go right into an attack on Draco. She had claimed that she felt Draco was a part of what was happening, and of course, that sent Octavia right into defensive mode. The sheer nerve of her cousin for her extreme accusations was the nail in the coffin. Their relationship was dead and buried, and just like Voldemort, never to be resurrected again.

Despite Octavia's support of the non-radicals, who were unable to be persuaded to Dumbledore's side, she didn't like the consequences. Umbridge was one of those consequences. The woman was despicable, and Octavia loathed her to her core, despite both of them sharing the same views; Voldemort had not returned.

But Octavia did not aim her hatred and anger at the toad-woman. She aimed it at Hermione and Dumbledore. For without their silly speculations and all-consuming paranoia that had presumably sprouted from some mysterious prophecy, this would not have occurred. Without their radical conspiracy theories, Umbridge would not be teaching them in that moment, and single-handedly destroying one of the most entertaining subjects at Hogwarts.

So Octavia channelled all of her resentment right toward Hermione in that moment. For without Hermione, Octavia's hand would not be cramping only twenty minutes into the two-hour lesson.

* * *

Octavia lounged lazily on the sofa, twirling a purple quill – courtesy of Draco – in her slender fingers as she yawned ungracefully. Her bare feet stretched, her toes wiggled, resting on Draco's lap as he sat in the middle of the black sofa.

A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece, atop which were moving paintings of various snakes. The black button-tufted leather sofa that Draco and Octavia occupied was paralleled by another, a coffee table separating them. The crackling fireplace faced the sofas, providing an orange glow amidst the otherwise green tinge of the sitting area. Pansy and Harry lounged on the adjacent sofa, working on their Defence Against the Dark Arts essays, whilst Theo and Blaise sat at the coffee table working on their transfiguration assignments.

Chewing on the end of her quill, Octavia narrowed her eyes at the parchment on her lap, rereading the last few lines she had written. Draco positioned the _Defensive Magical Theory_ textbook on his lap, opening and placing it midway down his thighs so as not to disturb Octavia's feet. He placed one hand on the book, keeping it open, and the other on her ankle, his thumb brushing over her smooth skin absentmindedly. Well, as absentmindedly as possible for a hormone-driven boy to touch his girlfriend's silky skin while attempting to concentrate on reading.

In a matter of minutes, Draco gave up on reading, and instead transferred his full attention to Octavia's feet. He ran his fingertips over her toes and brushed his fingers down the arch of her feet causing her to giggle and fidget. He continued anyway, entirely absorbed by the softness of her skin and the chiming sound of her sporadic giggles.

"Draco, stop," Octavia whined with a smile on her face. "I'm trying to concentrate."

"Concentrate?" Blaise scoffed from the coffee table. "It's a first-year essay, Tavs."

Octavia puckered her lips and frowned, but knew what he said to be true. The Defence Against the Dark Arts homework that she was working on was a scroll-length essay on the theory of the Stunning Spell. A simple spell to most, but to Octavia, it usually resulted in everyone being blown up.

"Come here," Draco said quietly, tossing the book from his lap to the floor.

Octavia shimmied around on the sofa, perching herself on his lap, her back against the arm of the sofa and Draco's chest pressed against her side. He rested his chin atop her head of curls, pointing out a few mistakes she had made in her essay and generally assisting her in perfecting it to an 'Outstanding' standard. As he had completed his own essay on the theory of the Stunning Spell in little more than thirty minutes, he didn't have much homework left to occupy himself with. On occasion, he would do her essays for her when she found them to be too challenging and infuriating, but as it was an assignment of a simpler variety, he helped her instead of doing it for her.

"As much as I hate Umbridge," Pansy smiled, fanning her hand over the damp ink on her parchment. "I absolutely love having easy assignments for the class."

"I'd still prefer hard essays over that hag," Harry grumbled, finishing off his own essay. "At least we'd actually be learning stuff of importance, and not wasting our time with this crap."

Draco nodded in agreement as he pointed to a misspelled word on Octavia's parchment scroll. She quickly scribbled a few lines through the word and wrote the correct spelling above it in miniscule size, barely readable.

"Yeah, well we have the old crackpot to thank for that," Theo mumbled. "Thanks to him, the Ministry sent a toad to teach us."

"He should be sacked." Pansy said, stuffing her parchment into her bag. "We shouldn't have to deal with the consequences of his madness."

"It's not just him, though," Blaise said, dipping his quill into his inkpot. "A lot of people believe him, and most of the faculty too."

"Sirius does," Harry scoffed.

"You're joking," Octavia said, scrunching up her face as her essay went ignored.

"Nope. He believes just about everything that Dumbledore says." Harry said bitterly.

"What's he said about it?" Pansy asked interestedly.

The whole business was still a mystery, especially to those who did not believe the rumours. The less one believed, the more in the dark they were.

"Not much," Harry shrugged. "Whenever I mention it, he just says to focus on school and keep my wits about me."

Draco and Harry glanced at one another briefly before Pansy spoke.

"But you're his godson," Pansy said. "If he believes all that nonsense, why isn't he being more open with you about it? Shouldn't he want you to be informed, in case it is true?"

"It isn't." Draco said firmly, now brushing his fingers through tight blonde curls.

"But Sirius believes it is," Pansy countered.

"Who cares?" Harry dismissed with a yawn. "It's all a bunch of crap anyway."

Octavia frowned at Harry as he glanced at Draco again, the two sharing another look. They did that a lot these days. Dismissing it entirely, Octavia tossed her half-finished essay onto the sofa and climbed off of Draco. She gave him that smirk reserved just for him before he grinned and stood as well.

Neither issued a goodbye or an excuse for their retreat as they left the common room. They didn't have to say why or where they were going. It had become a routine of sorts for the sappy couple. Every night before bed, they would sneak off to some quiet part of the dungeons and make-out for ages in an alcove. But that's as far as it went, despite Draco's exploring hands and lips.

* * *

Octavia frowned and pulled the thick duvet up to her chin as she flopped around in the four-poster bed. She had been enjoying the most pleasant dream of the sexual variety with Draco. But, like every night since the commencement of the school year, she had been woken up to the incoherent murmurs of Pansy in the adjacent bed.

"No, please don't."

Octavia groaned and grabbed a pillow, pulling it against her ear to muffle Pansy's distressed voice. Like every time she had employed this tactic, it was unsuccessful.

"I can't. Please, don't – stop."

The sound of Pansy tossing and turning in her bed caused the mattress springs to creak.

"No, no, no."

Tossing the pillowing from her head, Octavia sat upright in the bed and glowered at her dreaming friend through the darkness of the dormitory.

"She doesn't deserve this – please don't kill her."

Oh. It was _that_ nightmare.

Pansy had always been susceptible to nightmares throughout the years, but there was one particular nightmare that plagued her dreams. It had been quite some time since Pansy had last dreamt of the cloaked figure, so Octavia felt a flash of sympathy for her friend amidst the annoyance.

"You're better than this – please, she's innocent."

Octavia bit her lip as she watched her friend writhe around on the bed, her sweaty figure barely illuminated by the light glow of the simmering fireplace. Pansy barely ever remembered the dream when she woke up, but always recalled one detail about it. There was always a cloaked figure. She could never remember anything else; not the settings, surroundings, victims or antics. Just the cloaked figure. She had once said that it almost resembled a Dementor, in the way the cloak seemed to be vapour, and the face was never revealed. A frightening dream to be sure.

"Why are you doing this? What happened -"

Octavia sighed and climbed out of the bed, her bare feet connecting with the freezing cold stone ground. She winced at the iciness and scurried over to Pansy's bed, scrambled in and shimmied beneath the duvet.

"No, no, no – please, Merlin, no!"

Right before Pansy began to scream – something she normally did during the repeating nightmare – Octavia wrapped her arms around her figure and held her close. It had the same effect as it had done each time prior. Pansy mumbled incoherent words before she calmed significantly, taking comfort in her friend's arms whilst sleeping.

Not long after, the two girls went still and succumbed to deep and tranquil sleeps without cloaked figures or fears.


	15. Chapter 15

A Whole New World Chapter 15

* * *

Leaning back in her chair, Octavia sucked distractedly at the tip of her sugarquill. Well, it had been Draco's sugarquill mere moments ago, but she had taken it from him, and he didn't protest. Her hazel eyes narrowed as he reclined in his chair next to her and adjusted the two badges that shone brightly on his sweater vest. The prefects badge, and a new one. One that only persons affiliated with a prestigious club were awarded. The Inquisitorial Squad.

Halfway into the school year, Dumbledore had been relieved of his duties at the school, and Professor Toad Umbridge had taken his place. There was considerable tension within the castle walls, secrets hiding in the shadows. For that reason, Umbridge had personally selected a few students to join her new authoritative club. Draco had been her first selection, and it baffled Octavia beyond belief.

Draco had never seemed to be especially fond of Umbridge. Quite the opposite in fact. He loathed her. At least he claimed to on numerous occasions. So it was rather strange that Draco was Head of the Squad, a team of 'do-gooders' setting out to discover and disband any prohibited clubs within the school. Again, Octavia was perplexed. She had no idea what sort of club would need to be secretive, unless it had something to do with the rumours. The rumours that Dumbledore supported, only to be sacked for voicing them.

"What's wrong?" Draco whispered, hauling her out of her reverie.

Octavia blinked at him, sucking lightly on the tip of the sugarquill as she came back to her current surroundings. Professor Binns droned on at the front of the classroom, spit-balls soaring through him before splatting revoltingly onto the practically white chalkboard. Harry and Pansy cooped together at the edge of the four-person table, playing a game of Hangman, and Blaise and Theodore sat at the table in front, discussing the upcoming Quidditch match a little too loudly.

"Octavia," Draco whispered, draping his arm over the back of her chair. "Are you alright?"

"Huh?" Octavia frowned. "Oh, yeah, sorry. Just daydreaming."

"About what?" Draco asked, his fingers brushing over her shoulder softly.

"Stuff," Octavia shrugged as he assessed her.

"What mysterious thoughts plague your mind?" Draco smirked playfully.

"Your badge," Octavia answered honestly, meeting his gaze.

"Which one?" Draco smirked, his hand now in her curls.

"You know which one."

"Mm," Draco hummed, regarding her curiously. "What's so interesting about it?"

"I don't get it," Octavia said, scrunching up her face in confusion. "We already have Prefects; so why do we need Inquisitors?"

"Why do you think?"

But she couldn't help but suspect that he was interrogating her slyly. The stormy silver eyes gave him away.

"Why do you keep answering my questions with questions?" Octavia frowned.

Draco regarded her coolly for a moment before he grinned and ruffled her curls as she whined in annoyance. Once she successfully smacked his hand away from her curls, she shot him a scathing look, but he only smiled.

"Umbridge thinks there are meetings taking place amongst some of the students," Draco explained. "She wants them found and broken up. That's all."

"What kind of clubs?" Octavia asked between sucks on the sugarquill.

Draco's gaze raked down her face to her puckered lips as she sucked, the familiar glint of lust swarming in his eyes.

"The forbidden kind," Draco said, watching her lips intently.

"Forbidden?" Octavia grinned, the tip of the quill still in her mouth.

Draco inhaled deeply through his nostrils as his eyes swarmed with desire, his gaze fixed on her devious grin. She knew exactly how to play him.

"She thinks that students are practicing defence spells in the club," Draco explained, just as Octavia had predicted he would. "Preparing for something."

"Oh, for what?" Octavia asked curiously, making sure to flick her tongue over the tip of the quill.

With a quick glance down at his trousers, she knew that she was getting the reaction she wanted from him. Draco met her gaze, almost stunning her with the sheer amount of lust and affection in his eyes. But she played it cool and sucked innocently on the sugarquill, their eyes locked. She could almost see his own mental images of something else being in her mouth, but he could keep on dreaming. Octavia wasn't about to do _that_ with him. They were still in the heavy petting stage, with occasional occurrences of grinding. Octavia really liked the grinding.

Draco shrugged, his hand gripping the back of her neck loosely. "Whatever they think is coming, I suppose. All that Dumbledore nonsense."

Octavia nodded thoughtfully, her face scrunching up in the process. She was absolutely certain that if such a club existed, Hermione would be at the heart of it. Or at least be involved in some way, but Octavia kept that thought to herself.

"Do you know of anyone who would be likely to participate in a prohibited club?" Draco asked, brushing his thumb over the smooth sensitive skin of her neck.

Octavia shivered delightfully, finding a fog of lust beginning to creep toward her. He repeated the movement, causing her eyes to flutter slightly, a wicked smirk twisting at her plump lips. Draco smiled at her warmly, leaning toward her to plant a chaste kiss on the shell of her ear.

"Mm," Octavia hummed, enjoying the delightful tingling sensation his kiss had caused.

"Is that a yes?" Draco whispered against her ear, his warm breath tickling at the sensitive skin.

"Ye-no." Octavia frowned, shaking her head slightly. "No, I don't know anything about it."

"That's not what I asked," Draco whispered, his lips trailing down to just beneath her ear.

His tongue darted out against the delightfully pleasant spot, Octavia's eyes fluttering shut instantly.

"I don't … know anyone … that would …"

Octavia was finding it incredibly difficult to lie through the fog of lust that encompassed her. But she managed by holding onto the flicker of awareness that he was manipulating her, in the same way that she does to him. It was odd, though, that he would manipulate her for information on a club that she was certain did not exist. Even if it did, what would he do if she told him about her suspicions regarding Hermione?

Suddenly, Draco sucked gently at that exquisite spot beneath her ear, setting her core alight with need and dampening her knickers instantly.

"Let's get out of here," Octavia whispered.

Draco grinned against her skin before pulling away and extending his hand. Octavia smirked as she placed her hand in his allowed him to guide her out of the classroom silently.

Octavia giggled as they walked hurriedly down the corridor, Draco shoving open the door to an empty broom closet and dragging her inside. The moment the door closed behind them, Octavia was shoved up against the wall, Draco's lips on hers. All manipulations had been forgotten, and he kissed her so gently that she quickly melted to his touch like butter. His tongue parted her lips slowly, delving into her mouth and tasting her strawberry flavour. The moment their tongues touched, Draco groaned into her mouth, his hands cupping her face as they kissed. Octavia's hands gripped tightly onto his biceps, her nails scratching at the material of his white shirt.

Draco pushed his leg between hers, her damp crotch resting on his thigh, leaning up on her tip-toes as he caressed her tongue with his. She told him exactly what she wanted by grinding her core against his thigh, Draco groaning into her mouth. Their lips remained connected as he grabbed her thighs and lifted them, hiking them over his hips. He pushed her further against the wall, the trapped erection in his trousers pressed against her tightening core.

Octavia locked her ankles together, Draco's hands gripping her perky buttocks tightly, supporting her weight as their kiss remained soft and sweet. She gasped into his mouth as he ground himself against her slowly, her knickers soaked and his erection jerking against its confines.

He circled his hips slowly, the trapped bulge rubbing against her clit as she squeaked. Draco grinned against her lips, their tongues still caressing each other gently. His hands moved from her bum, his arms wrapping around her body tightly instead. One arm snaked around the small of her back, the other secured around the base of her shoulder blades as he held her tightly against him.

Octavia's head lolled back blissfully as he ground himself against her slowly, finding a gentle and pleasant rhythm. His lips kissed a trail from her chin to the shell of her ear, his heavy breaths brushing against the sensitive skin. With each leisurely thrust against her soaked and aching core, he stroked the fire inside of them, sending jolts of pleasure through her body and his.

Catching the lobe of her ear between his teeth, Draco pulled slightly, grazing against her skin delightfully. She felt heat in her tummy pool and rise, tremors of ecstasy tingling through her. A soft strangled moan escaped her parted lips as he picked up the pace slightly, not slamming against her, but brushing against her core with precise pressure and speed. Never once did he fail to hit her throbbing clit, sending jolts of fire through her body as she began to breathe quickly.

"Octavia," Draco groaned against her ear. "I can't … I think I'm going to-"

"Keep going, keep going," Octavia squealed, wrapping her arms around his neck firmly.

Draco issued a string of strangled moans as he quickened the pace, desperately trying to fight off the orgasm that threatened to crash down on him. A difficult task, given his youth. Focusing his thoughts on Professor Umbridge, Draco managed to ward off his nearing orgasm for a while longer, continuing to thrust swiftly against Octavia.

Whimpers and gasps escaped Octavia, her hooded eyes shimmering with the ecstasy that coursed through her veins. Every nerve ending in her body seemed to be on fire, and the most excruciatingly pleasurable sensation brewed in her core.

"I'm close," Octavia gasped, Draco groaning deeply in response. "Draco, oh … Draco!"

He picked up the pace, allowing images of his current ministrations to enter his mind, both desperately clinging on to each other as time vibrated and stilled around them. He swirled his trapped cock against her core, a strangled shriek tearing Octavia.

"That! Do that! Again, again, again," Octavia muttered in a daze, her breath hitching and frequent whimpers escaping her.

Draco's brows furrowed as he held his breath, thrusting himself against her repeatedly, feeling her body tense against his. That was his signal.

With a final hard thrust, both Octavia and Draco felt the all-consuming wave of pleasure crash down on them without mercy. Their bodies tensed before jerking, their orgasms evident in their shouts and moans.

They remained against each other as they waited for the pleasure to fade into nothing but lingering tingles. Draco exhaled blissfully as they untangled themselves from one another. He cupped her flushed face with his hands, staring down at her with hooded silvery eyes.

"Octavia," Draco whispered, his brows knitted together.

"Draco," Octavia grinned, gazing up at him with clouded hazel eyes.

"I …" Draco paused, licking his lips and swallowing audibly. "I love you."

Octavia blushed and smiled coyly, averting her gaze to his collarbone. She knew how she felt about him, despite their youth. She knew what that feeling inside of her was. So she told him exactly how she felt.

"I love you too."

* * *

It was so tranquil, so meditative, so relaxing. Every time Octavia entered this particular classroom in the North Tower, she felt as though she had stepped into a crystal ball. Full of mystery and secrets waiting to be unravelled. Of course, Octavia was never one of the very few to unravel secrets. She didn't see the answers in the crystal balls or tarot cards. She didn't have the Sight. But that didn't hinder the experience of Divination for Octavia. She still enjoyed the class, the ambiance and mystique. It was all so alluring and captivating. Only some shared her views, though.

Blaise sat across from her at the small-legged table between them, bored out of his mind. He rolled the crystal ball from one side of the circular table to the other, whilst Octavia shifted around on the plush cushions she sat on, getting comfortable for the lesson. Harry and Pansy sat at the adjacent table, but it was a metre away, given the spaciousness of the room, and the low number of students that chose the subject that year. Draco and Theo were two of the many that chose Alchemy instead of the questionable art of Divination. They were not believers. Octavia was.

Blaise considered this class to be a load of codswallop, but continued to select it for his studies for an easy pass. All one had to do in the class was predict death, and you got yourself an Outstanding grade. So Octavia found it to be quite surprising that not many others had chosen the subject, and had instead selected a considerably difficult class.

"Blaise," Octavia scowled. "Stop that."

Octavia tried to snatch the crystal ball from Blaise, but he continued to bat it from one side of the table to the other. The mystical device came dangerously close to falling off the table, which would only bring him an eternity of back luck … if one believed silly superstitions, that is. Octavia didn't. Yet, she scrambled to snatch the ball from him as he smirked at her.

"Don't be a prat," Octavia hissed, successfully retrieving the ball and placing it on its claw stand. "Give me your hands."

"No," Blaise said, losing interest as he glanced around the room.

"We need to practice," Octavia frowned, placing her hands on the table, palms facing upwards. "Come on, Blaise."

"I said no."

"If we don't practice, we won't see anything," Octavia scowled.

" _If_ we were able to see anything in that useless ball, I don't doubt that it would be limited to your fanciful daydreams and a bunch of shoes." Blaise smirked.

While he smirked as he spoke, the friendly teasing she was so accustomed to was vacant. Octavia frowned at him, a glimmer of hurt glistening in her hazel eyes, but he quickly turned his attention to the table behind them as the Professor spoke.

"What do you see, dear?" Professor Trelawney asked as she approached Pansy's table.

Octavia leaned over her own table, watching intently as Harry and Pansy joined hands, the latter gazing into the crystal ball intently. Pansy had always been a favourite of Trelawney's, for the Professor believed her to be a Seer in the making. She had 'the gift', apparently. Octavia wasn't too sure about that, for Pansy frequently saw her own nightmares in the crystal ball, and not much else. No predictions, just shadows of people without faces or any identifiable features. Mere manifestations of her own fears.

"Harry, concentrate," Pansy hissed, not looking up from the crystal ball.

Harry grinned at the brunette before he made a show of taking deep breaths as though preparing himself for a journey into the unknown. Blaise and Octavia snickered at his dramatic display, especially when he winced, presumably by Pansy crushing his hands in hers.

"Alright, alright," Harry grumbled, glowering at his crush. "I'm focused."

"Shh!" Pansy hushed impatiently.

Harry rolled his eyes, but fell silent all the same. He bowed his head, his hands clasped tightly with Pansy's, the nearby students watching quietly. Pansy's sight was always interesting to hear about, even if most didn't believe in the art of Divination.

After a few moments, Pansy moaned in annoyance, releasing Harry's hands.

"Professor, he's thinking about Quidditch," Pansy complained. "I can't concentrate."

"How did you know that?" Harry gaped at the girl, but Pansy ignored him.

"Mr Potter, you must clear your mind," Trelawney instructed. "Attention students! Many witches and wizards, talented though they are in the area of loud bangs and smells and sudden disappearings, are yet unable to penetrate the veiled mysteries of the future. But do try your best to focus on the crystal ball with a clear and blank mind, if only to prevent blocking your partner's Sight. It is very important that you allow your partner to channel your magic in this process."

The students nodded – well, those who were awake nodded. Most others continued to sleep soundly on the comfortable pillows surrounding the tables.

"Again, dear," Trelawney encouraged. "Work as a magical unit; harness his powers. Push through the barricade."

Resting her chin on the heels of her hands, Octavia watched the pair as they resumed their meditative position; holding hands and bowing their heads, their gazes locked on the stormy crystal ball. Blaise yawned indelicately, but continued to observe the scene with mild interest.

Octavia could only see the side of Pansy's face, but saw the thin line of her lips and the furrowed brows as she gazed into the cloudy crystal ball. The Professor teetered around the table, occasionally peering into the ball and found nothing. But Pansy was seeing something in the ball. That much was obvious in her expression of concentration. It was evident that she was trying to clear the presumably blurry image that she saw.

"I see…" Pansy frowned, her voice somewhat strained.

"Yes?" Trelawney prompted, practically giddy with anticipation. "What do you see, dear?"

"A person … A man," Pansy whispered, her hands clutching tightly onto Harry's hands.

"Uh huh," Trelawney encouraged, wringing her hands together anxiously. "What else?"

"He's wearing … a black cloak, but … it's not really a cloak …"

Octavia stifled a yawn as she watched. It was the same thing every lesson. Pansy always saw an imitation of her nightmares. And just like her nightmares, the scene in the crystal ball ended before any new information could be revealed. It was the same old; a man in a cloak, that was made of vapour. The end.

"It wisps around him," Pansy whispered, her body tense as she struggled to decipher the image.

Harry didn't bother looking at the crystal ball anymore, finding that he'd much rather watch the object of his desires instead.

"Harry, stop it," Pansy snapped after a moment.

Harry raised his brows, a light blush creeping up his face as he averted his gaze to the crystal ball. Octavia suddenly had an urge to discover what Harry had been thinking about before Pansy told him off. It appeared to be something quite embarrassing. For Harry, at least.

A deep frown appeared at Pansy's brows as she tilted her head curiously. Her brown eyes bore into the crystal ball, emanating curiosity and confusion.

"It's not a cloak," Pansy said, speaking slowly, as though unsure of what she was seeing. "I think … it's darkness …"

"Very good," Trelawney nodded, despite not seeing anything in the ball herself. "Go on."

"Snakes …" Pansy whispered, Octavia's interest peaking considerably.

This was definitely further than Pansy's sight had ever gone before. While Octavia knew it to be an imitation of Pansy's dreams, the additional detail was certainly intriguing.

"Where are the snakes?" Trelawney asked gently, circling the table. "Focus your mind, Miss Parkinson. Tell us where the snakes are."

Pansy moaned quietly, the strain of her concentration evident in that noise alone. But she pushed through, her intense stare locked onto the crystal ball. Harry frowned at the brunette with concern before he returned his gaze to the crystal ball, green eyes filled with curiosity and worry.

"Two men," Pansy said, craning her neck to the side. "Two … Not one. So much darkness … evil … so evil."

"The snakes dear," Trelawney said. "Focus on them – where are they?"

"On the floor … the walls … on … on skin."

"Skin?" Trelawney repeated much too excitedly.

Harry had gone sheet white, peering into the crystal ball, but saw nothing.

"Like the Dark Mark … but different …" Pansy whispered. "There's a voice …"

"A voice?" Trelawney squeaked with glee, dropping to her knees beside Pansy.

All the awake students watched intently, eager for more information. It was the first time in years that Pansy's crystal ball had shown more than one cloaked figure. So much more. But why now? Why was she seeing more now? After years of trying and trying, it had all been revealed to her on this particular day. It was very curious.

"A woman's voice …" Pansy said. "She's saying the same thing … over and over again … 'One of Him, Born from another; One of Him, Born from a mother'."

Harry yanked his hands back from Pansy's grasp, a sharp intake of breath tearing through the brunette. Pansy threw her head back and gasped as the power left her, Harry staring at her in complete shock. He swallowed before slipping on his casual demeanour, but Octavia saw right through it. He knew what she saw. He knew something.

The question was, however, _what_ did Harry know? What would he know about Pansy's nightmares, when Pansy didn't even remember them to full detail?

Octavia narrowed her eyes suspiciously as Harry feigned a bored yawn. The concerned glint in his green eyes didn't get by her. She saw it. And she couldn't help but feel unease churn in the pit of her stomach.

* * *

Sprawled out on the wooden floor, Octavia lay on her back, plopping chocolate buttons into her mouth. Despite the awkward atmosphere between the two Granger cousins, Octavia made herself right at home in Hermione's unofficial corner in the library. She even helped herself to Hermione's stash of muggle chocolates without asking. Hermione didn't mind- or if she did, she didn't voice her disapproval.

Octavia suspected that Hermione frequently forgot Octavia was there. The bushy-haired Gryffindor seemed to zone out regularly, staring at the pages of opened tomes on the floor, but not really reading the book. Her eyes would glaze over; all signs of a daydream in play. But Octavia wasn't there to watch her cousin daydream, nor was she there to eat her sweets. That was just a bonus.

Neither girl had issued an apology to the other for the arguments that they had shared over the summer. That had been eight months ago now. And this was the first time they had spoken since. Although, they had barely spoken yet – Octavia mostly just ate the chocolates and stared curiously at Hermione as she frowned at her tome. Yes, it was all very awkward and uncomfortable. So why was Octavia there? She didn't know.

Octavia had awoken early that morning to the now-daily murmurs of Pansy. The girl seemed to be experiencing more and more nightmares as the months went on. Now all she remembered when she woke were two cloaked figures, darkness and snakes. Octavia put it down to scary stories she must have heard in her childhood, but in saying that, she felt a little afraid and edgy.

Other than the rumours of Voldemort's return, and Professor Umbridge joining the faculty, not much had changed in Octavia's life. So why she felt a constant tense atmosphere around her was baffling. She still didn't believe that Voldemort had returned, but she couldn't shake the feeling of impending danger. Perhaps that is why she found herself seeking out her cousin that morning?

Octavia rolled onto her belly, propping her chin up on her hands, her legs bent and feet swaying leisurely. Hermione had zoned out again. She stared blankly at the pages of the tome, her brows furrowing and unfurrowing repeatedly. Occasionally her lips would tighten before she chewed on her bottom lip, much like Octavia did when she was anxious. Perhaps it was a family habit. So was prolonging the inevitable, it seemed, for they were still to speak. But if Octavia could think of something to say, she would have sparked conversation already. Unfortunately, every sentence that formed in her mind dissolved to nothing before the first word could even slip from her tongue.

Thankfully, Hermione broke the silence.

"Did you come here to eat my sweets and watch me read?" Hermione asked coolly, flicking the page over.

Octavia didn't really understand why Hermione turned the page in the tome. It wasn't like she had read the contents of the page, for she had been much too distracted by her own thoughts to do so. It was merely a charade, Octavia assumed.

"Just want to see how you are," Octavia said, fidgeting her feet together, her chin resting on her hands.

"I'm fine." Hermione snipped.

"What've you been up to?"

"Nothing of interest," Hermione said crisply.

Octavia sighed heavily, feeling the hostility that radiated from her cousin. It wasn't supposed to be like this. They were family. While they were complete opposites and shared nothing in common, they should be friends to an extent. It shouldn't feel this uncomfortable to be in one another's presence. But it was. And they were both to blame, in truth.

Although, you'd have a hard time getting either one of them to admit it.

"I've been alright too," Octavia said awkwardly, even though Hermione hadn't asked about her wellbeing.

Hermione nodded once, hardly listening, and instead, pretending to read her tome.

"Do you wanna maybe have lunch at Hogsmeade next weekend?" Octavia asked timidly.

"Can't." Hermione said. "I have plans."

"Oh," Octavia nodded, shifting around to sit cross-legged. Her arms and neck were beginning to ache from her previous position. "What kinda plans?"

"The kind with friends."

Octavia felt the sting of Hermione's tone, but could she really blame her? Not with justification. Octavia had said some cruel things to her cousin over the summer, and vice versa. So it was understandable that there was a sharp frostiness to the atmosphere between them and a bitterness to Hermione's tone.

"Maybe I'll see you in Hogsmeade?" Octavia pressed. "I'll buy you a butterbeer, if you want."

"I am more than capable of purchasing my own beverages, O." Hermione drawled coolly.

"I'm trying here," Octavia sighed.

Hermione looked up from her tome for the first time since Octavia had joined her thirty minutes ago. There was an iciness to her normally warm honey brown eyes, but a pang of regret too. Octavia noticed, and played on it.

"We're family," Octavia said. "We're practically sisters; we grew up together. I know we don't see eye to eye on most things, especially not now with everything that's going on, but I don't want to lose you. I want you in my life."

"I'm always going to be here for you, Octavia." Hermione said softly, closing the tome and placing it gently on the hard floor. "If you ever need me, I'll be there."

"I'm coming to you now, and you're pushing me away," Octavia countered.

"I …" Hermione paused, formulating the best response.

Octavia could see that her cousin wanted to say something, but was deciding to dance around it instead of saying it outright.

"I'm here for you," Hermione stated firmly. "But … There's only so much I can do when you're with him."

"Him?" Octavia frowned. "You mean Draco?"

"Unless you have another boyfriend?" Hermione quirked her brow.

"No," Octavia scoffed. "I just don't get what he has to do with us – me and you."

"You and _I_." Hermione corrected.

"No one likes a grammar nazi, Hermione." Octavia grumbled. "And don't change the subject – what's Draco go to do with anything?"

"Everything." Hermione said. "I don't trust him. I think he's a part of what's been going on in the world."

"Oh," Octavia nodded in feigned understanding. "He does sneak off a lot. It makes sense. He's just running around the muggle world, blowing things up in his spare time."

"I meant _this_ world." Hermione said.

"The only thing that's going in in the magical world is people believing You-Know-Who has returned, and others not believing it." Octavia frowned.

"What about the Ministry taking control of Hogwarts and limiting what we study?" Hermione countered. "What about Ollivander's wand shop being raided and attacked? Early releases of a few Death Eaters from Azkaban?"

"They were given parole," Octavia shrugged, recalling the articles she had read in the _Prophet_. "Ollivander's wand shop was burgled by whoever, and the Ministry only had to step in once Dumbledore lost his bloody mind."

"How can you be so blind?" Hermione sighed, shaking her head with a mixture of pity and exasperation. "It's happening all around us, and you just don't see it. Is it because you can't, or you won't?"

"Can't," Octavia nodded. "Because you can't see something that's not there. I don't want to argue about this again, Hermione. I don't believe he's back, and you do. Let's just … leave it at that."

"Not many believed at first," Hermione said, scooting closer to O. "But they see it now."

"Yeah?" Octavia scoffed. "Like who? You and two others?"

"A lot of people," Hermione whispered, glancing over her shoulder at the entry to the aisle. "A lot of people in this school alone, and many more outside of the castle."

Octavia regarded her cousin curiously for a moment before it clicked.

"You're a part of it, aren't you?" Octavia whispered. "The secret club that Draco talks about."

"See!" Hermione hissed. "He talks about the club, right? He wants to find it!"

"Yeah," Octavia shrugged. "It's part of the Inquisitorial Squad thing, so he wants to do what he's been told to do. It doesn't mean he's blowing people up and raiding wand shops on Diagon Alley forfucksake. – Wait! So there's actually a secret club?"

"No." Hermione lied instantly. "I am merely speaking for argument's sake."

Octavia narrowed her eyes at her cousin, seeing right through the lie. There was definitely a club, and Hermione knew all about it.

"Something bad is coming, O." Hermione said, tactfully steering away from the topic of the club. "I just want you to be careful. Watch Draco – I know, I know, you don't believe me. But … please just keep an eye on him."

"And what, report back to you?" Octavia laughed bitterly.

"No," Hermione said sadly. "Look out for yourself. Observe his behaviour; what he does, where he goes, the excuses he gives. That's all I ask."

Octavia sighed heavily, rubbing her hands over her face before dropping them to her lap.

"This is why we can't talk," Octavia said miserably. "You just can't let go of what he said you, can you? After years, you just can't stop holding a grudge. He's my boyfriend, Hermione. Draco is the boyfriend of a _muggle-born_. So tell me again how he's a supporter of the back-from-the-dead murdering racist?"

"I don't know," Hermione said honestly. "I don't know how Malfoy fits into it, but I know in my gut that he does. He's a part of it, and he's dangerous. You don't have to believe me, please, just do what I ask; watch him."

"You're mad," Octavia sighed, climbing to her feet. "I'm not doing that."

"I'll be here when you change your mind, O." Hermione said.

Octavia scoffed humourlessly before she flicked her curls over her shoulder and stomped out of the aisle, disappearing into the labyrinth of the library.


	16. Chapter 16

A Whole New World Chapter 16

* * *

Harry stalked through the aisles in the labyrinth that was the Hogwarts library. He hadn't seen Draco since the end of Quidditch practice, but his trusty Marauder's Map had pointed him in the right direction. The Map. It was extraordinarily useful to say the least. He had confiscated it during his fifth year from the nuisances that were Fred and George Weasley. It was the only thing his position on the Inquisitorial Squad was good for; total authority, that outmatched even that of a Head Boy. So it was needless to say that Harry had been pleased to return for his sixth year to find Professor Umbridge continuing her position as Headmaster.

While the woman ruled the school with an iron fist, her position in the school had its advantages. The power of being in the Inquisitorial Squad was one, and his leeway was another. Harry was an advocate of the anti-Dumbledore sentiments within the school, and had voiced his opinions tactfully during Defence Against the Dark Arts classes during debates. It definitely granted him some favour with the despicable toad of a witch. Not that he really needed her favour.

As a Prefect, Harry could wander the castle past curfew, and with his deceased father's invisibility cloak, he could do whatever he wished. His power provided him with an air of arrogance, but he didn't mind that so much. According to Severus Snape, his father had been similar in that sense. Although Snape was rather fond of Harry it seemed, whereas his less than favourable sentiments toward the deceased James Potter were no secret.

Harry didn't know how he felt about his parents. Yes, he appreciated that they sacrificed their lives for him, and fought valiantly against the hypocritical sorcerer that had attempted to kill him. Sirius was always telling him stories of his parents; what they did, what they liked, what they didn't. But it felt distant to Harry, because it was. Second hand stories. It didn't form a bond between Harry and his parents, but only provided him with a slight idea as to their personalities. They were family, but they were dead. Draco, on the other hand, was like a brother to Harry and was very much alive. In a sense, they actually were brothers, but it depended on one's interpretation and understanding of such relations.

The said 'brother' of sorts was found in the biology section of the library, a far corner, buried behind layers upon layers of aisles. As Harry arrived at the section to find Draco seated a two-person table in the nook of the library, he could have sworn that he was inhaling the dust particles from the surrounding tomes and textbooks. Harry approached silently, his green eyes observing his comrade. Draco crouched over a textbook, sporting an expression of the upmost concentration, dirtied and muddied Quidditch attire adorning his muscular form. There was even the odd smear of earth residue on his pale face and gloved hands.

"Better be careful, mate," Harry smirked, announcing his arrival. "Madam Pince will turn you into a rat if she thinks your dirtying her precious books."

Draco hummed in recognition of the joke, but didn't look up from the textbook he read intently. Harry sauntered over to the small table, grabbing a chair and spinning it around. He plopped himself down onto the chair, legs spread, arms resting on the back as he leaned forward.

"Female Anatomy," Harry grinned as he read aloud, his eyes scanning the chapter title on the book. "Just a bit of light reading, I see."

"Mm," Draco hummed, hardly paying Harry any attention.

Harry laughed as Draco turned the page slowly, revealing a very detailed image of a woman's genitalia. The picture moved, of course, changing into an image of something called a birth canal.

"Shouldn't you be researching more important things?" Harry asked, but stared intently at the vagina sketch.

"It's done." Draco said, scanning the text in the book swiftly.

"Already?" Harry raised his brows in evident surprise. "It's only been two months, mate."

"I finished it last night." Draco frowned, his focus primarily on the textbook.

"Did you inform our dear Lucius?" Harry asked, his gaze returning to the book between them.

"I sent an owl this morning."

"So, naturally, you celebrate by researching vaginas," Harry laughed.

"I think Octavia's ready," Draco said distractedly. "I found muggle contraception in her school bag last night, and she asked me to meet her in our spot tonight."

"Wow," Harry nodded with raised brows. "Lucky you, then."

"We'll see how lucky I am," Draco groaned, reclining in his chair and pushing the book away from him. "Give me a dragon, and I'll vanquish it, but this is something else entirely."

"You're trying to figure out where to put it?" Harry laughed mockingly, pulling the textbook toward him.

"Hardly," Draco responded coolly. "I want it to be good for her."

"So what's the problem?" Harry frowned, scanning the text before flipping the page.

"It's an impossible puzzle," Draco sighed. "It says you have to stimulate the clitoris, while hitting the g-spot – that may or may not exist and is hard to find."

Harry snickered immaturely, inspecting another image of the female genitalia intently.

"It says the g-spot is ribbed," Harry frowned, reading out the text from the book. "Just look for a ribbed patch."

"It's not like I can just climb up there and have a look around," Draco sneered, snatching the book back.

Harry shrugged, reclining casually in his chair.

"Well, if you find it, let me know," Harry grinned, stretching his aching arms above his head. "I wouldn't mind giving Pansy a little pleasure."

"You're getting ahead of yourself," Draco drawled. "First, you might want to kiss her, get her to notice you, date, and hope you're fortunate enough that she won't see you as a prat."

"I am a prat," Harry grinned wolfishly. "She knows that and fancies me anyway."

"You're certain?" Draco quirked his brow.

"How can she not?" Harry said, flicking his black hair to the side.

"If you're so sure she fancies you, why haven't you gotten anywhere with her?"

Harry's humour flickered for a moment before he shrugged casually.

"I've had other things to worry about," Harry said.

"As have I, yet I always make time for Octavia." Draco countered. "Especially given everything that's going on."

"You're setting yourself up for a nightmare of a break-up," Harry said. "That's why I haven't pursued Pansy."

"Octavia will be averse and reluctant at first," Draco said, so sure of himself. "But she'll come around in time."

"I wouldn't bank on it," Harry said. "She'll hate you."

"She loves me." Draco countered firmly.

"She doesn't know you."

Draco assessed his comrade coolly before nodding once. "Not all of me, but she will soon enough."

"So what're you going to do with her?" Harry asked. "Lock her up in a tower?"

"If I need to." Draco said. "But like I said, she'll come around."

"We'll see." Harry smirked.

"That we will."

* * *

Octavia allowed Draco to lead her through the corridors of the Slytherin dungeons, right in the very direction of their preferred classroom. The room was no longer used, and had now become dusty and filled with decaying wooden furniture. So when Draco opened the door to the abandoned classroom, it was no surprise that Octavia's expression morphed into one of shocked awe. Dusty and dank no more.

The classroom was enchanted and simply breath-taking. No longer a classroom, it now displayed the romantic beauty of a peaceful forest; thick trees lined where the walls should be, thick grass and flower patches decorated what should have been a stone floor, clouds and stars and a full moon above to replace the otherwise mossy ceiling, the teetering songs of birds that were nowhere in sight, candlelights hovering in the air, and a bed in the centre, draped with white sheets and blankets. The bed was four-poster, shabby and chic sticks holding up flowing white drapes, vines entwining around the structure. It was gorgeous, romantic and simply perfect.

Octavia stepped into the room – or forest – slowly, her lips parted in awe as waves of adoration washed over her. Draco closed the door behind them, never taking his silver eyes off the girl as she walked around the room in amazement.

"You did all this?" Octavia whispered in complete astonishment, turning to face the blond by the door. "For me?"

Draco smirked and stepped toward her, slipping his arms around her slender waist. He placed his chin on the top of her tight curls, holding her against him.

"I'd do anything for you," Draco said.

Octavia smiled against his sweater-clad chest before pulling away, his arms unfastening from her body. Her sweet smile twisted into a wicked smirk as her fingers moved to the top button of her tight shirt.

"You don't have to," Draco whispered, cupping her cheek gently. "I know why you wanted to come here, but you can change your mind. I won't be angry with you."

Octavia beamed up at him, forgetting all about her buttons as she leaned up on her tip-toes and kissed him gently. Her hands gripped onto the expensive fabric of his sweater, Draco's hands resting on either side of her hips. Her lips parted against his, and Draco followed suit. Their tongues met and gently caressed the other. He could feel his pants tightening already, his erection straining against the material.

Slowly, Draco stepped forward, guiding her toward the bed as they kissed. When the back of her knees met the edge of the mattress, their lips parted and they gazed at one another. Lust swarmed in hazel and silver, Draco allowing her a pause, a chance to back out. She didn't.

Octavia didn't bother unbuttoning her shirt, and instead, grabbed the hem and pulled it over her head, dishevelling her wild curls in the process. Draco didn't mind; he loved her curls, the wilder the better. He quickly mirrored her actions, grabbing the back of his sweater and pulling it over his head in one swift movement before doing the same with his black t-shirt.

Draco swallowed as his gaze raked down her face and smooth neck, resting on her bra-concealed mounds. From the occasional fumbled groping sessions they had entertained with one another, Draco had already known her breasts to be on the smaller side. But they were perky, round and perfect. That knowledge hadn't prepared him whatsoever. He stared at them hungrily, a glint of nervousness in his silver eyes.

Octavia was in a similar trance. Her glistening hazel eyes scanned over his perfectly sculpted chest admiringly. She licked her lips as her gaze lingered over the definition of his pecs, trailing down to the slight V-shape that disappeared into his trousers. His biceps were her favourites though, for reasons unknown to her.

After a few moments of drinking each other's appearances in, Octavia took his hands in hers and placed them on her breasts. They were entirely new at this, and she wasn't quite sure what to do, but thought that actual physical contact was a good start. Draco's eyes shot up to meet hers, his hands moulded around her perky breasts. She just gazed up at him warmly, almost overwhelmed with the love she felt for him. The trust.

He watched as she reached behind her back, her fingers fumbling with the bra clasp. She unhooked it expertly, slowly peeling the straps of the bra from her body, until the only thing holding the garment up was his hands. Keeping their eyes connected, Draco slowly removed the bra from her breasts and dropped it to the ground. She now stood in only flat Mary-Janes, white frilly socks and a school skirt.

Hesitantly, he raised his hands and cupped her breasts gently. His thumbs brushed over her tight pink nipples, feeling them hardening to his touch. The textbook he had read that afternoon had said that it was a sign of arousal, so he was doing something right … he hoped. When his cock jerked in his pants, he almost squeezed her breasts tightly, but he refrained. According to the book, they were quite sensitive, and he didn't wish to hurt her. Although, she didn't appear to be in any pain. Her parted lips would emit sounds of sharp inhales, her hooded eyes were glazed over with lust and her hard nipples spoke of her arousal.

"Take your trousers off," Octavia whispered, her cheeks crimson at her own crassness.

Draco smiled warmly at her, moving his hands to cup her cheeks, placing a reassuring kiss on her plump lips. He pulled away and unbuttoned his trousers, pulling down the zip as he kicked off his shoes. It was all very awkward, but to them, it was perfect.

Draco kicked off his trousers and boxers, now totally nude in front of a crimson Octavia. Her blush was so intense that it had spread across her bare chest. She didn't glance down at the protruding thing above his thighs, and instead, kept her eyes locked with his. She exhaled a shaky breath, the sound portraying her nerves as she unclasped her skirt and let it pool at her feet. Draco wanted to glance down, but he didn't. He forced his gaze to remain on hers, sensing that it was the only thing keeping her together in that moment, preventing her nerves from consuming her entirely. He was right.

Octavia bent her knee and raised her foot to her bottom, moving her hand behind her to slip off her shoe and sock. Once done, she shifted her weight and performed the same task on her other foot. She kept her knickers on and made no move to slide them off her body. Draco didn't pressure her. He stepped forward, the tip of his erection prodding her belly as he grabbed her waist and lifted her up.

Wrapping her legs around his waist, Octavia rested her forehead on his muscular shoulder as he knelt on the edge of the bed. Draco cradled the back her head with one hand as he lowered her onto the mattress, placing her head on the feathery plush pillows. He remained on his knees, her legs spread and his rigid shaft a mere millimetre away from her damp knickers.

Running his hands up and down her thighs slowly, Draco watched as her expression became relaxed, the beauty gazing at him with hooded eyes. Her legs parted further as he continued his gentle strokes, his thumbs occasionally brushing against the seams of her panties when he reached the apex of her thighs. Every time he did, a sharp gasp came from Octavia, and she made no move to prevent him from continuing. After a few more times, she became as relaxed as she possibly could be in their situation.

"You can tell me to stop," Draco said, his fingertip grazing down the wet patch of her knickers.

"No," Octavia breathed, his ministrations sending delightful tingles to her aching core. "I want this."

"If you change your mi-"

"I won't."

"If you do," Draco repeated, hooking his finger through her knickers and peeling them away from her core. "Tell me, and I'll stop. At any moment, it doesn't matter."

Octavia smiled and nodded, bringing her thighs together as he slipped off the last of her clothing. Her legs remained together once he had removed them, shielding her bare core from his vision. He noticed, lowering himself on top of her as she relaxed and spread her legs to accommodate him.

Propping himself up on his forearms, Draco accidently leaned on her hair, causing her to wince.

"Sorry," Draco mumbled, readjusting himself and her halo of curls.

She rubbed the patch of her head that hurt and snorted in a mixture of pain and humour. Draco couldn't help but grin, a little embarrassed, but glad he hadn't hurt her too much.

Supporting himself with one forearm beside her head, Draco slipped his free hand between them, seeking and finding the heat of her core. His head dipped, his lips finding her breasts as he lay lingering chaste kisses over them. Fingers rough from years of playing Quidditch brushed down her sensitive flesh, right between her slick folds. A mixture between a strangled moan and surprised gasp escaped her lips at the sensation, a moment before Draco's lips latched onto her pink nipple.

The hard tight nipple on her breast was rolled and tweaked with teeth, lips and tongue, her sensitive nub at her core enduring the same ministrations from his thumb and forefinger. Already wet and lubricated, Octavia raised her hips in encouragement, moaning gravely as he trailed his finger down to her soaked slit and pushed inside.

"Oh," Octavia gasped, her lips circular in shape as her cunt clenched around his finger.

If this was what sex felt like, she'd never stop having it with him. Oh. It got better. _So_ much better.

The tip of his index finger stroked a delightful spot she didn't know existed, causing a stream of gasps and whimpers to escape her parted lips. His tongue flicked out over her nipple before he caught it between his teeth and grazed lightly. Every nerve ending in her body sizzled and tingled delightfully, only increased when he pushed in a second finger.

Octavia's eyes fluttered shut as breathless sounds escaped her, Draco's fingers curling inside of her as she began to squirm. The firmer the pressure to that new spot, the better the pleasure, the louder the moans. A twinge of pain shot through her as he delicately pushed a third finger in, easing its way in with slow and leisurely thrusts.

Her cunt clenched and quivered around his fingers as they pumped in and out of her with determined rhythm, Draco abandoning her nipple in favour of watching her face contort with pleasure. A frown creased at her brow, but not the one she wore frequently. It was one of pleasure, accompanied by husky sounds and sweet whimpers.

Draco couldn't stifle the moan of intense pleasure he felt from merely watching her. He pumped his fingers in and out of her impossibly tight crevice swiftly, picking up the pace, watching with fascination as she frowned and moaned. Her lips parted, closed, eyes fluttered, closed, opened, her body moved, writhed … and then it stilled.

Breasts pushed up against his hard chest as her back arched, her toes pointing out and body tensing. And then he heard the most exquisite sound in the world. So entrancing, enthralling, captivating, beautiful. There was no one word that could describe the vision or the moans. Her vocal cords vibrated as she shrieked and gasped, her body twitching and convulsing, his fingers never ceasing to bring her pleasure.

He was so transfixed that he almost forgot. Now was the moment. It would be easier for her now. He quickly pulled his slick fingers from her fluttering cunt, grabbing the base of his cock, positioning his weeping tip against the warmth of her core. Her juices dripped out generously, mixing with his pre-cum, and he thanked Merlin that he had taken care of himself several times that day, purely for the reason that he would have cum right at that moment if he hadn't.

Pushing the head against her pink folds, Draco repositioned himself again, his forearms flanking her head. He waited until she came down from her high, waiting until he saw that familiar glisten in her spectacular hazel eyes. She gave one lazy nod of the head, granting him permission, but unable to speak in her post-orgasmic state. Swallowing thickly, Draco checked her pretty features for any signs of hesitance, but found none.

Draco held himself above her, his gaze never leaving her dreamy expression as he pushed in. He stopped – with great difficulty – with just the tip in, seeing no pain on her face, merely a little discomfort. He had tried to ease her tightness earlier with his fingers, but the length and girth of his cock was sure to bring her pain. He pushed forward again, releasing a deep groan as her heat engulfed him halfway. He stopped. Again, checking. All clear.

A little further. A bit more. He stopped again. This time, for two reasons. A grimace flashed over her features, and his cock met with a barricade. His breathing was hard from the sheer difficulty of restraining himself, and finally, she met his gaze, lifting her eyes from his collarbone. Octavia smiled weakly, placing her hands on his shoulders, gripping tightly. She inhaled and exhaled deeply before nodding once, Draco returning the gesture.

Swiftly, Draco pushed through the barrier, sheathing himself inside of her to the hilt. Her back arched and lips parted, but not in the same way as before. This time, it was of pain. No sound escaped her as they both stilled, Draco's silver eyes shining with lust and concern as he assessed her.

"It's ok," Octavia groaned through the pain. "Keep going."

Draco knew that it wasn't ok. She was lying to provide him permission and pleasure. He moved his arms, slipping them around her body as he lowered himself on top of her. Resting his forehead against hers, he curved his body, not putting his weight on her slender form, his cock in her to the brim, but unmoving. One arm wrapped around her upper body, the other slipped around the small of her back, Draco held her securely. Waiting for the pain to dissipate. He would wait all night if need be, despite the angry jerking and twitching of his cock against her slick walls.

While waiting, Draco's lips met hers, soft skin connecting and moving, sharing a gentle kiss. Warms tongues touched, peppermint and strawberry invading their senses.

"It doesn't hurt anymore," Octavia whispered into his mouth. "You can move."

Resuming their kiss, Draco slowly pulled out of her before pushing back in, his movements gentle and hesitant. It felt as though her core was tightening impossibly, trying to either push him out – almost successfully – or draw him further inside. He repeated this a few times, pushing in and pulling out with difficulty, waiting for a gasp of pain or the tensing of her body, but it never came. He knew it wasn't bringing her pleasure either, for he wasn't focused on hitting the g-spot. His movements were experimental, feeling her heat swallowing his cock, while ensuring that it didn't bring her pain.

Draco ended their kiss, but their lips remained connected as he spoke into her mouth, "How is it?"

"It's ok," Octavia whispered, as though speaking at a normal volume would burst their own little bubble world.

"It doesn't hurt?" He asked into her mouth, their lips connected as he stilled inside of her.

"No," Octavia whispered.

"Tell me if this hurts, ok?" Draco asked as she nodded, the plump skin of their lips brushing together at the gesture.

He placed a gentle kiss on her lips as he slipped out to the tip, remaining so for a moment. Suddenly, he plunged deep inside of her at an angle, forcing his tip to connect with the ribbed spot of her walls. A gasp escaped her lips, a mixture of surprise, pleasure and pain.

"That's good," Octavia said, despite the twinge of pain that came with the thrust.

Draco groaned as he felt a pulse surge through his cock, twitching against her tight walls as he nuzzled his face against her neck. Her curls tickled his nose, but he relished in it, slowly slipping out of her again. Every time he pulled out of her, he felt as though her walls clenched tightly around him, not wanting to permit his exit. It was a different sensation to when they grinded together, but so much better. So warm and soft, inviting and slick. He never wanted to stop. Unfortunately, the pleasure and tension was building up inside of him already, and he was sure that he wouldn't last much longer.

Trying to keep his climax at bay, Draco thrust deep inside of her, a grunt escaping both of them from the impact and sensations. He ensured his thrusts were relatively smooth, and not forced or harsh, despite the overwhelming urge to pound into her without mercy. A frown creased at his brow, his arms tightening around her as he swiftly plunged in and out of her, hitting the ribbed spot most of the time. But his aim began to waver as his mind buzzed and body surged with fire, his breathing turning ragged.

Octavia grunted and whimpered with every thrust, pleasure beginning to pool in her core from his ministrations. It was nowhere near the amount of pleasure that his fingers had brought her, but she knew that it had a lot to do with the dull pain inside of her. The pleasure jolts that shot through her were always laced with pain, but she didn't tell him that. She wanted him to continue, and was concerned that he would stop if he knew it hurt.

A smile graced her plump pink lips as he kissed her neck gently, continuing to thrust in and out of her leisurely. She suddenly felt loved and adored in his arms, feeling the affection pouring out of him as he held her tightly against him. His kisses, movements and embrace were all so tender and loving.

Still holding her against him, Draco slowly slipped his cock out of her wet heat to the tip before leisurely sliding back in. The movements brought pleasure to Octavia, and with each exit and re-entrance, the pain faded considerably, until there was no pain left, but only the stretching sensation that consumed her core.

Slow and fluid thrusts filled her cunt to the brim, each movement causing Draco to groan in pleasure. He controlled his urges and continued to fuck her slowly, ensuring that each thrust was long and fluid. But he knew his climax was nearing him, increased primarily by the love for girl beneath him.

His thrusts gradually began to quicken in pace, Octavia's pain returning mildly at the swift intrusions, grimacing against his neck as she bit her lip harshly. Draco uttered a few grunts, slamming in and out of her swiftly, Octavia not speaking of the pain it caused her, knowing that he was close to his climax. Her walls clamped down on him, attempting to push him out of her or draw him further in with a mind of its own, Draco continuing to plunge in and out of her tight cunt.

Draco's hold around her body tightened as his thrusts increased in speed and urgency, his face burying into her loose curls as he panted harshly.

"I love you," Draco groaned against her neck, his cock jerking against her walls.

He was no longer hitting that sweet spot inside of her, but thrusting in and out of her without rhythm, his movements desperate, his harsh breaths ripped through the air.

"I love you too, Draco." Octavia smiled, wrapping her arms around him, their bodies locked together.

She could have sworn that he cursed under his breath right before his body stilled and tensed, his cock pulsing against her tight walls. And then she felt it. Warmth spread through her core as he groaned loudly, a gravelly sound, filled with blinding pleasure. His arms tightened around her as she lay still, frowning at the peculiar sensation of his cum emptying deep inside of her. It was nice, but strange. New. But she kind of liked it, for reasons unknown to her.

"Fuck," Draco breathed, his body twitching one last time. "I'm sorry, I tried -"

"It's ok," Octavia laughed, rubbing her hands up and down his back.

"I wanted you to enjoy it too," Draco said, propping himself up on his forearms and frowning down at her. "I just couldn't stop it from -"

"Draco," Octavia smiled, cupping his guilty face in her hands. "You're complaining about nothing. It happens, and to be honest, I don't think I was going to cum."

"Why not?" Draco whispered, a complete expression of guilt and self-scolding on his face.

"It felt really good," Octavia assured. "But it kinda hurt at times, and then it didn't. I think I just need to get used to the feeling or something."

Draco averted his eyes to her curls, a frown on his face as he clenched his jaw. She had never seen him so down on himself.

"We can try again," Octavia said, leaning up to kiss his chin before dropping back down onto the bed.

Draco nodded before he slipped out of her and climbed off the bed, stark naked. Octavia lay still, turning her head to the side, watching as he grabbed his trousers and riffled through the pockets. He retrieved a small blue vial, clasping it firmly in his hand as he turned and strolled back to the bed.

Octavia couldn't help but blush as he approached, his pale and flawless body glistening in the moonlight of the enchanted ceiling. His muscles flickered in the pale light, his cock still erect and shining with their fluids. He smirked at her flushed cheeks, kneeling on the bed and handing her the vial.

"What's that?" Octavia asked, holding the duvet against her as she sat up.

"Pain relief potion," Draco said, uncorking the vial with the edge of his thumb. "It's one for menstrual cramps, so I thought it might target that area and help with the pain. When the pain goes away, we can try again. If you want, though. We don't have to."

Octavia smiled and took the vial from him, sniffing it cautiously. Satisfied, she tossed back the familiar liquid, swallowing it one gulp, feeling the cool potion trickle through her. Letting the potion get to work, Octavia lay back down, holding the duvet up to shield her modesty. Draco climbed in under the blankets beside her, wrapping his muscular arms around her nude body and holding her against him. It wasn't long before Octavia drifted off in his arms, Draco staying awake, occasionally kissing her nose or cheeks, watching her closed eyelids flutter as she dreamt.

*.*.*.*

Her body was on fire. Every nerve ending in her body was alight with passion and need, lust pooling at her core as he devoured her mouth like a man starving. The desperation in the kiss drowned Octavia in sheer need, her eyelids shut as she moaned into his delicious mouth. No pain stabbed at her core as he thrust himself inside of her, a gasp escaping her lips from the sheer pleasure it brought her. The pain relief potion had been a brilliant choice on both their parts, for now she felt nothing but all-consuming ecstasy. 

Complete exhilaration consumed her as she submitted to his dominating tongue, Draco plunging his thick cock into her tight heat, her back arching as ecstasy shot through her body. A gasp escaped her lips, Draco swallowing it greedily, as he removed his hold on her wrists, grabbing her slender thighs and hiking them up to his hips. Octavia instinctively wrapped her legs around him, locking at the ankles as he thrusted his smooth cock deep inside her aching core. A delicious moan escaped the muggle-born, Draco hissing at the pleasure the movements brought, their tongues still twisting together deliciously.

Feeling his body climbing the blissful ecstasy ladder, Draco tensed as he fought off the premature onslaught of crippling pleasure, desperate to bring her with him into the euphoric abyss. Desperate to hear her cry out from the intensity of his ministrations. Desperate to feel her body squirm beneath his as he delivered her the same pleasure she provided him with.

Wrapping one arm around her waist, Draco held her impossibly close to him as he pounded into her desperately, the beauty yelping at the impact and ruthless pleasure that assaulted her. His free hand tightly gripped the back of her hair, keeping her head in place for his tongue to devour her mouth as he slammed in out of her. The ministrations sent jolts of fire and magical currents through their bodies, Octavia completely lost in the sensations he engulfed her in.

His muscular arm that held her to him tensed as he emitted a gravelly groan into her sweet mouth, Octavia mewing in response as she bucked her own hips upwards, meeting his thrusts. Her body craved more of the pleasure he gave her, the thickness of his plunging cock only adding to the intense euphoria pumping through her veins.

Each harsh thrust into her soaked core jolted her body upwards, but his arm prevented an escape as continued to thrust desperately. The moment her legs began to quake around his hips, Draco lost every bit of self-control he was holding onto. Pulling his lips away from hers, Draco propped himself up with one hand pressed into the pillow beside her head, the other gripping tightly onto the wooden headboard.

Stormy silver eyes stared down at hazel hooded eyes, drinking in the sounds of her whimpers and intelligible murmurs, his hips never ceasing in their swift and rapid movements. Light pants escaped his swollen lips as his eyes ravished her alluring expression of sheer bliss as he slammed in and out of her desperately, leaning his weight on his knees, her legs bent back, her knees pressed into the mattress. Every swift and deep plunge of his cock inside of her hit that sweet spot that had her mewling and shouting to the heavens, her breasts bouncing spectacularly from the force of the impact.

Sweat glistened on their naked bodies, her tight walls squeezing his pulsing cock with every thrust. His twitched and jerked incessantly, desperate for the release he denied himself as he tilted his hips and picked up the pace. The modest, yet perky breasts bounced beautifully with the force of his thrusts, her legs shaking as they outstretched, her toes curling. He watched in complete fascination, evidently in a trance of his own, as her back arched and lips parted in a silent scream, time standing still as they both tensed.

Suddenly, the most splendid mewing sound he had ever heard ripped through the air, Octavia's face contorted in sheer ecstasy as her frenzied nerves vibrated within her quaking body. Her knees bent, her toes curling and uncurling, her feet stretching and legs kicking out as she screamed to the heavens, Draco panting harshly as he gave one final violent thrust.

A shout escaped Draco as his head lolled forward, cum shooting out of his twitching cock, soaking her already drenched walls as Octavia squirmed on the mattress, his position over her not permitting an escape. Not that she was trying to escape. She was much to submerged in the pleasure, lost in the trance. Lost in her love for Draco and desire.

Draco's muscular body crashed down upon her petite frame as they both breathed harshly, Octavia's body twitching occasionally as the euphoria left her. Draco laughed tiredly as she whispered the same word for the third time that night, despite still being plagued with the after-tingles of her orgasm.

"Again."

Draco didn't know how many more times he could do it, for he was certain that she had milked him dry. But Octavia always was a greedy girl, so who was he to deny his love anything?

* * *

After a most magical night, Octavia blushed deeply as she leaned against the stone wall by the entrance to the girls' dormitory. Draco grinned as he rested his forehead against hers, his hands placed lazily on her hips. She wore his sweater, reeked of sex, and sported a mass of wild curls, but he found it all to be very intoxicating. She clutched her bundle of clothes in her arms, holding them against her chest as her bare feet fidgeted on the ground. She was embarrassed and coy, and it only served to fuel the love within him.

The darkness of the common room they occupied didn't accurately portray the time of day. The sun outside would be rising, but no light penetrated the dim common room. Draco wished for her to return to her dormitory before other Slytherins began to trickle into the common room and see her in her current state.

"Good night," Draco smiled, kissing her forehead gently.

"Good morning," Octavia corrected as he grinned.

"I'll see you at the game," Draco said between kisses to her face.

"Ok," Octavia nodded as he stepped backwards. "Bye, then."

Draco almost laughed at the level of awkwardness protruding from the stunning girl, but he daren't. He didn't wish to add to her shy embarrassment. She lingered for a moment, her cheeks rosy and lips swollen, before she nodded and scurried off, through the door to her dormitory. Draco stayed by the door for a moment, even though she was no longer in sight. He smiled to himself before turning and journeying to his dorm room, a foolish smile plastered on his handsome face.

*.*.*.*

As she closed the door behind her, Octavia leaned back against it and breathed a blissful sigh. A wide love-sick grin spread across her face as she clutched her crumpled up clothes to her chest. She didn't think that anything could go any better in her life. Everything was perfect. Draco was perfect.

Pushing herself from the door, Octavia skipped happily over to her bed, her bare feet thudding quietly against the cold stone floor. Daphne and Pansy were still fast asleep, given the early hour, but Octavia wished that the latter would wake, if only to listen to Octavia's giddy ramblings about her night. About how great Draco Malfoy is.

Unfortunately, Pansy didn't seem to be anywhere near waking up. She tossed and turned in the bed, tangled up with sheets, sweating profusely as she mumbled. Octavia sighed as she tossed her clothes onto her own bed before scurrying over to Pansy's.

She climbed into the bed beside her friend, prepared to offer her comfort in her distressed sleep, but stopped before she could even get the sheet over her body. Pansy was mumbling as she always did when having a nightmare, but was not begging for mercy, or anything of the sort. The voice she spoke in was eerie and unfamiliar. Like echoes of voices from the afterlife, causing goosebumps to break out all over Octavia's body.

 _"On the night of the full moon, the world will be theirs."_

Leaning toward the sleeping girl, Octavia frowned as she tried to decipher what her friend was saying in a voice that wasn't hers.

 _"Come with it, blood and death, heart-break and misery, destruction and order."_

A shiver ran down O's spine as she scooted closer to the girl beside her.

 _"Born of soul and born of blood, the two will take their rightful places. The darkness behind the masks will be revealed. Two halves of a whole will make power and evil from death and murder."_

A gasp escaped the sleeping girl as she jolted in the bed, Octavia tensing instantly. Suddenly, Pansy stopped speaking and relaxed, but Octavia hadn't relaxed. She stared at her friend with wide eyes, slowly slipping out of the bed, unable to be in her presence.

Octavia swallowed loudly before she ran over to her own bed and dived in, burying herself beneath the blankets. As though it would shield her from the eeriness that lingered in the air.

The danger that she felt and terror at what Pansy's words could mean.


	17. Chapter 17

A Whole New World Chapter 17

* * *

"You weren't at the game."

Octavia swore internally at the crisp sound of his tone, slowly raising her head and gaze to see her less than pleased boyfriend. Draco stood in front of her, clad in his tight Quidditch gear, his Firebolt gripped firmly in his left hand, his right hand stuffed into his trouser pocket. Hard silver pooled in his eyes as he stared down at her on the sofa, her knees against her chest, the common room sparse of people given the warm weather and Quidditch match.

The hardness in his eyes dispersed a moment after their gazes connected, replaced with softness and concern. A frown creased at his brow as he placed the dirty Firebolt on the coffee table and moved to sit beside her on the leather sofa.

"I wasn't feeling up to it," Octavia whispered meekly, feeling a little disappointed in herself.

The least she could have done was watch him play the game against Gryffindor. Instead, she had become distracted by her own thoughts, spending the past two hours on the sofa by herself.

Draco assessed her worriedly, facing her on the sofa, her huddled up body close to his. He cupped the side of her cheek gently, the dirt on his leather gloves touching her face.

"What's wrong?" Draco frowned, his thumb brushing against her skin softly.

Octavia shrugged lamely, resting her chin on her knees, averting her eyes to his tight sweater.

"Octavia," Draco pressed, scooting even closer.

His hand left her cheek and set to soothingly stroking her back instead.

"Nothing," Octavia sighed after a moment.

"It's not nothing," Draco said softly. "What's upsetting you? Did someone say something to you?"

"No," Octavia mumbled.

"Do you regret last night?" Draco frowned. "If you don't want to do it again, we don't have to -"

"It's not that," Octavia said. "I don't regret that. I liked it."

"Then what's the matter?" asked Draco as he continued rubbing her back soothingly.

"I'm being silly," Octavia dismissed. "I'm probably due my period or something."

Draco nodded slightly, but was evidently unconvinced. He could always tell when she was nearing that time of the month, for her mood swings and snootiness increased considerably. She even threw frequent tantrums to whoever paid her any mind – mostly himself and Blaise. But she didn't become sad; just extremely precarious and sensitive. He made it his business to track her menstruation, purely for the sake of avoiding her tantrums. The best course of action during those weeks was to feed her lots of sweets and compliment her constantly.

"Don't lie to me, Octavia." Draco said gently. "What's bothering you?"

"I don't know," Octavia admitted. "I just don't feel right."

"Are you ill?" Draco asked, his hand instantly pressing against her forehead, checking for a temperature.

"No," Octavia sighed, shimmying around to sit cross-legged.

Draco removed his hand, draping one arm over the back of the sofa, resting his free hand on her knee as he regarded her intently. He saw the unfamiliar glint in her eyes, identifying it as fear instantly.

"You're afraid," Draco frowned, squeezing her knee gently. "Why?"

"Just …" Octavia hesitated, unsure of herself and her thoughts. "It's Pansy – She keeps having these dreams."

"About the cloaked men," Draco nodded.

"How do you know?" Octavia frowned. "I never told you about them."

"Harry mentioned it." Draco said casually. "Something about Divination, I believe."

"Oh," Octavia nodded.

It made sense. Why wouldn't Harry talk about his crush to his best friend? And he did know about the nightmares, and the things she saw in the crystal ball. Octavia fleetingly recalled Harry's strange reaction to Pansy's more detailed visions. She suddenly felt uneasy, for she had been so adamant that day that Harry knew what Pansy had seen.

"What about her dreams?" Draco prompted, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"She had another one," Octavia explained. "When I went into the dorm this morning."

"And?" Draco quirked his brow. "Is that unusual?"

"No," Octavia shook her head. "But, this one was different."

"How so?"

"I dunno," Octavia shrugged, reluctant to reveal what Pansy had said.

Octavia didn't know why she wasn't being honest with Draco. Why shouldn't she tell him the truth? It was just a dream, and not even her own. But she couldn't help but hear Hermione's voice in her head.

 _'_ _Watch him.'_

 _'_ _Observe him.'_

Frowning at her own thoughts, Octavia assessed the man she trusted. But if she truly trusted him, why was she searching his eyes for clues? Clues to what? She had no idea. But she did know that there was a glimmer in his eyes. A hardness beneath the concern.

"What did she say in her dream?" Draco asked.

Octavia swallowed before shaking her head and averting her transparent eyes to the patch of sofa between them.

"Nothing new," Octavia lied. "She just seemed more upset than usual, and … it scared me this time."

"Why did it frighten you?" Draco whispered, his thumb caressing her knee tenderly.

"I don't know," Octavia frowned, lying terribly. "She just … seemed really scared and then I got scared, and she cried in her sleep … and she just kept dreaming, and … it was just scary, ok? Drop it, Draco! I don't want to talk about it, ok?!"

"Ok," Draco nodded.

Draco grabbed her waist and shifted her to straddle his lap, her face instantly nuzzling into his chest. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, holding her securely against him as she suddenly began to sob. He hushed her softly as she cried into his chest, her body shaking with the force of the strange sobs. The sobs themselves weren't strange, but neither really knew why she was crying in the first place.

"You don't need to be afraid, Octavia." Draco assured softly. "I'll never let anyone or anything harm you. Do you trust me?"

Her response was a hum, nod and sob. He rested his forehead atop her curls, holding her tightly in his arms.

"As long as you're with me, nothing will ever happen to you," Draco said softly. "I'll always do right by you, and ensure that you're safe. You have nothing to fear, O."

Octavia nodded against his chest, seeking and finding reassurance in his comfort. His words soothed her, his embrace lulled her sobs into nothing but occasional hiccups and snivels.

Once she had calmed completely, only her blotchy cheeks and bloodshot eyes remaining as evidence, the common room door swung open, and in poured the rest of the Quidditch team. Octavia grumbled in annoyance, climbing off of Draco and nuzzling into his side instead. Even in the Slytherin common room publically straddling someone was a little risqué. And Slytherins loved to talk, so the exaggerated tales would spread across the castle like fire.

Draco twisted around to face her, using his knuckles to wipe away the tear tracks from her cheeks.

"I wanted to talk to you about something," Draco smirked, capturing O's attention instantly.

Draco smirked a lot, she knew. But he had a variety of smirks for different occasions. Their differences were only identifiable to those who knew him, and he only ever gave that particular smirk when she was about to get a present. So, naturally, Octavia stuck out her hands, palms facing upwards as she gazed expectantly at him. He grinned widely, on the verge of laughter. Only Octavia could go from a sobbing fit to greediness in a matter of seconds.

"It's not that kind of gift," Draco grinned, Octavia scowling and dropping her hands to her lap. "I want you to meet me tonight, in our classroom."

"Oh," Octavia nodded dejectedly.

Sex was great and all, but she would hardly consider it to be a 'gift'. Not for her at least. For Draco, it was the greatest gift he would ever receive, and he better be damn grateful.

"It's not that either," Draco laughed, reading her mind expertly. "Although, if you feel inclined afterwards, I won't protest."

"What is it?" Octavia asked eagerly.

"A surprise," Draco smirked, tapping her nose playfully. "Don't be late, or you might miss it."

"Ohhh," Octavia sang, her curiosity soaring through the roof. "What time should I be there?"

"10.30pm," Draco said. "Not a second after, alright?"

"Alright," Octavia nodded, a smile twisting at her plump lips.

"I want you to wear this," Draco smirked, slipping out something silver from his pocket.

Her bright hazel eyes lit up spectacularly. The lying bastard! He _had_ gotten her a gift!

"It's not much, but I saw it in Hogsmeade yesterday, and I thought of you." Draco said, raising his hand, palm facing downwards, as a necklace unravelled from between his fingers. The silver links dangled down to between her crossed legs, a jagged purple stone at the end.

"I love it!" Octavia squealed.

He smiled as she shimmied around, turning her back to him. He gently brushed her loose curls from her neck, his fingertips grazing over the skin softly. He swept her hair over her right shoulder before hooping the necklace around her neck. As he fastened it at the back, he placed a soft and tender kiss against the smooth skin of her neck.

"It's beautiful," Octavia smiled down at her necklace, fingering it lightly.

"Wear it tonight." Draco said.

"I'll wear it always."

"Promise?" Draco smirked against the soft skin of her neck.

"I promise."

* * *

Octavia couldn't ignore the feeling of dread in her tummy. It was relentless and mocking, filling her with fear and anxieties. But for what? She did not know. All she knew was that even her hands tingled with nerves, and her heart rate had not calmed in over an hour. Octavia would not consider herself to be a Seer of any sort, but she couldn't deny her intuition when it literarily sent surges of crippling trepidation through her body. Even Draco's prior comfort had only been temporary, and she found herself so distracted by her churning and twisting gut that she could barely even be excited for the surprise he had in store for her that night. That's when she knew it was bad; Octavia was _always_ excited for gifts.

For that reason, Octavia entered the library, looking for her cousin. Hermione was a logical girl, but possessed insane theories. Theories that Octavia was paying a little more attention to now. Of course, she didn't believe the radical theories. But if that was the case, why was she seeking out Hermione? Octavia really didn't know. All she knew was that the moment Draco left her to wash and change, that dreadful fear had returned to her heart and tummy, and she found herself scurrying through the castle toward the library. Toward her cousin.

After a few moments, she successfully located Hermione in her usual space; the far corner of the History of Magic section, buried deep in the rows of shelves. Hermione wasn't sitting on the floor this time, but at a small table for two against the wall and windows. The bushy-haired Gryffindor did not notice Octavia's arrival and kept her nose buried in an old dusty tome with crisp beige pages. Unlike last time, she was actually reading the words in the mouldy book, a crease in the middle of her brows.

Octavia teetered over to the table, not bothering to seat herself before she placed her palms flat on the wooden surface, gaining her cousin's attention instantly.

"I'm not saying I do, but _what if_ I believed you," Octavia blurted out. "Not the stuff about Draco, but the other stuff. What if I thought you were telling the truth?"

Hermione looked up from her tome, regarding her palpably distressed cousin clinically. Octavia's words hung in the silence between them, hazel and brown connected, the atmosphere thickening rapidly. After what seemed like an eternity, Hermione folded the tome shut and reclined in her chair, enduring an inner battle of sorts.

"If you believe me," Hermione spoke slowly, almost hesitantly, "you can meet me on the fifth floor tonight, in the charms corridor."

Octavia didn't respond, but seated herself on the chair opposite her clinical-looking cousin and wrung her hands together on her lap.

"10.30pm sharp," Hermione said. "If you're a minute late, I won't be there."

"Curfew's at 9," Octavia mumbled, her brows furrowed.

Octavia wasn't exactly averse to running around the dungeons after curfew, but venturing out into the upper levels of the castle after nine at night was risky business. She was almost certain to encounter a non-Slytherin Prefect, or worse, Filch. Not only that, she already had plans that night at the exact same time that Hermione had delegated.

"I am aware," Hermione said crisply, tapping her finger against the Prefect badge on her robes.

"Can't we meet earlier?" Octavia asked.

"No," Hermione shook her head. "I have to supervise detentions until 10 in the greenhouse, and I need to show you something at _precisely_ 10.30. It has to be then."

Octavia nodded in response. The time clashed entirely with Draco's surprise for her, so it was unlikely that she would meet Hermione that night. Yet, she didn't decline the offer, or say so. She just nodded, already experiencing an inner conflict. Draco would be livid if she stood him up, but some things were more important than sneaking off to get presents in the dungeons.

Was this one of those things?

* * *

Standing at the end of the bed, Octavia chewed her bottom lip relentlessly, her hazel eyes darting between one side to the other. She had selected two outfits that night, one for Draco's viewing pleasure, the other more suitable for meeting Hermione. She had carefully selected both outfits, not knowing which one she would wear. For she didn't know if she would meet Draco in ten minutes' time, or if she would meet her cousin.

Due to the late hour on a school night, Daphne and Pansy were already in their beds, fast asleep. As usual, Pansy murmured whilst dreaming nasty things, but she said nothing new that night so far. Or if she did, Octavia didn't hear her, for she was too preoccupied by her current predicament. If she chose to meet Hermione, she would only have ten minutes to change out of her nightwear and trek through the castle quickly. If she chose to meet Draco, Hermione may never give her another opportunity again.

That's what it was, right? An opportunity? Hermione had said that she was going to show Octavia something, but it had to be at 10.30pm, and not a moment after. Surely it was something important, right? Something that would convince Octavia of her cousin's beliefs?

But then there was Draco. Octavia couldn't stand him up, could she? He would be furious, but he couldn't stay angry with her for long. The longest he had been angry with her was a whole hour. He was a sucker for her puppy-dog eyes and pouts. In saying that, Octavia had never jilted him before, and if he left her alone in a classroom, waiting and waiting, she'd be beyond furious. She would be _hurt_.

That did it. Octavia realised in that moment. Draco would not only be angry if she stood him up, but hurt too, whereas Hermione would simply shut her out for a while.

Grabbing the grey knitwear dress, Octavia pulled the dress onto her underwear-clad body, quickly followed by a pair of grey over-the-knee socks. She didn't bother with shoes as their classroom was only a few corridors away. Also, she could sneak around much easier without the clacking of heels or thudding of shoes. Scurrying over to the long mirror between the windows, Octavia unfastened her hair from her pony-tail, shaking and fluffing out her tight curls. She quickly ran over to the vanity desk to apply a little mascara and lip balm before pinching her cheeks to create a rosy shade.

Returning to the long mirror, she gave her appearance a once over, detangling some of her cluttered curls. Guilt churned at the pit of her stomach for choosing Draco over Hermione, but it wasn't as though she had planned on this. She knew now that she should have cancelled her plans with at least one of them before the time came to choose, but she didn't, and now she paid the price in gut-wrenching guilt. After finally reaching out to her cousin and repairing their fragile relationship, Octavia knew that she had just essentially thrown it all in the cauldron. Hermione would be much harder to approach now, and Octavia truly couldn't blame her for that inevitable fracture in their relationship.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, Octavia realised with a deep sigh that she was already late. 10.33pm and counting.

"Harry."

Octavia whipped around, her eyes wide with surprise as her gaze darted around the room, looking for whoever spoke.

"Harry."

Frowning, Octavia hesitantly approached Pansy's bed, tilting her head as the brunette mumbled in her sleep. It couldn't have been a nightmare, for Pansy never said any names when experiencing them, and what would Harry have to do with nightmares?

"Harry, don't– please, don't."

Blinking stupidly at her distressed friend, Octavia swallowed thickly and stepped closer.

Pansy choked out, twisting herself in the sweaty blankets, "don't – you don't have to do this Harry!"

Those blasted goosebumps erupted all over Octavia's body as the eeriness creeped into the atmosphere. Backing away from the bed slowly, Octavia watched as Pansy tossed and turned repeatedly, occasionally releasing a heart-wrenching sob, muttering Harry's name over and over again.

Turning on her heels, Octavia bolted out of the room and up the staircase, desperate to reach Draco as quickly as her legs could carry her. He had a way of soothing her fears and vanquishing her anxieties. She sprinted up the stairs, taking two steps at a time, before she burst through the door to the common room. Only a few students remained awake, and they barely paid her single glance as she raced through the room and out into the corridor.

Once she reached the stone gargoyle, she stopped in her tracks, almost stumbling over. She had the distinct feeling that someone was watching her …

No one was in the corridor, so of course, she was being silly. Octavia tried to calm herself by reasoning mentally that she was merely upset over Pansy's dream talk. Nothing more. She was only being paranoid. Draco would soothe her. He would comfort and calm her. She just had to get to him and she would be happy and tranquil.

Pulling herself together, Octavia trotted down the corridor, not exactly running like she wanted to, but not strolling either. Her heart began to pump adrenaline through her body, and her hands suddenly felt very warm, almost clammy with sweat. It was very strange indeed. There was no reason to feel so unnerved, but that didn't stop her gut from twisting horridly. Occasionally, she stopped in her tracks, swearing that she heard a rustle or a noise of sorts. But again, she was only being paranoid.

"Get your shit together," Octavia whispered to herself, her hands balling into fists. "There's nothing here. You're just scared."

"And with good reason."


	18. Chapter 18

A Whole New World Chapter 18

* * *

 _"_ _And with good reason."_

Blaise's cool drawl came from the shadows ahead. Octavia almost choked out a sob of relief at hearing his familiar arrogant voice. Instead, she laughed nervously, the fear slowly seeping away. The sound of his expensive shoes connecting with the rough stone ground neared as Blaise stepped out of the shadows, clad in expensive black robes from head to toe.

"You scared the shit out of me," Octavia sighed, her hand on her heart as the rapid pounding began to slow. "Don't creep up on people in the dark, Blaise. It's rude."

Blaise flashed a wide grin as he approached, his hands in his pockets, his movements arrogant, yet casual.

"I am a rude man," Blaise admitted without guilt. "You're late."

"Huh?" Octavia frowned stupidly at him.

Blaise stopped a metre away from her, his grin fading into a smirk, an unfamiliar hardness in his black eyes.

"I said, you're late." Blaise repeated as though explaining something to a toddler. "By ten minutes, if my estimations are correct."

"How do you know I'm late?" Octavia asked, scrunching up her face in confusion.

Blaise parted his lips to respond, but before a word could slip from his tongue, a deafeningly thunderous crack resounded through the castle, the stone walls vibrating and ground quaking. Octavia gasped and held out her arms as though to steady herself, the ground shaking beneath her sock-clad feet. Blaise sighed deeply and stepped toward her as she shrieked, the Italian surprisingly calm.

"Come with me," Blaise drawled, extending his hand to the frightened muggle-born.

"What?!" Octavia screeched over the incessant bangs and cracks that ripped through the air. "We need to go, Blaise!"

"We are going," Blaise said soothingly. "Come on."

"What is that?" Octavia shrieked as the loudest bang yet tore through castle, accompanied by screams and sounds of chaos. "Blaise, what's happening?"

An army of heavy and swift footsteps approached, coming from behind Octavia.

"Too late," Blaise said without sorrow, stuffing his hand into his pocket.

A group of cloaked figures stepped out of the shadows as Octavia whipped around, snatching her wand from her right sock. Her eyes were wide with fear, her hand trembling as she raised her white wand and aimed it at the newcomers. A shaky breath of relief escaped her lips as she recognised the man front and centre to be Draco.

But that didn't make any sense. Draco was supposed to be in their classroom, in the direction that Blaise came from. Why was Draco coming from the direction of the Hogwarts foyer? Who were the dozen or so cloaked men that he was with?

What the fuck was going on?

Draco halted upon spotting Octavia, his silver eyes glowing with outrage. He wore the same robes that Blaise did, and the men behind him stopped too.

"What are you still doing here?" Draco shouted, his murderous gaze darting to Blaise.

"She was late," Blaise drawled, picking invisible lint from his robes. "I came looking for her."

"Octavia, go with Blaise." Draco barked, returning his gaze to the wide-eyed girl.

Octavia kept her wand aimed at the group of men, shifting it slightly to point right in Draco's direction. She swallowed thickly as bouts of terror ran through her, the screams of whomever bouncing off the castle walls. Screams, bangs, cracks. It never ended. It just kept sounding out, Octavia feeling sick to her stomach at the noises.

"What's happening, Draco?" Octavia whimpered, her voice cracking. "Who are these men? What … Draco, what're you doing?"

"I'm getting you out of here," Draco said slowly, slipping his wand into his pocket before raising his hands. "I need to get you out of the castle, Octavia."

Octavia's body began to shake, her hand quivering as Draco took one step toward her, his hands raised to prove that he was unarmed.

"People have attacked the school, Octavia. These men are here to help us," Draco informed, his tone soft and soothing. "But I need you to go with Blaise."

Screams of terror and pain tore through the castle, the walls trembling, bits of stone dropping onto the quivering ground. Draco held his hands up as though it would calm her slightly, but it didn't. She was terrified, of whatever was happening in the castle, and Draco. She had never been frightened of him before, but she was in that moment. Was it the hardness in his stormy silver eyes? His predatory steps toward her? The danger whipping around him threateningly?

"Remember when I asked if you trust me?" Draco coaxed, taking another step toward her. "You said you trusted me, and I swore I would protect you. I need you to _let_ me do that, Octavia. I know you're scared, but you need to trust me, ok?"

Lowering her wand slightly, Octavia licked her lips, her eyes darting around at the shivering walls and the men behind Draco. Their hoods were too low for her to identify any of them, but they appeared to be acquaintances of Draco's, or at least, they appeared to wait for his instruction. They stood motionless, like pets waiting on a command.

"I – I can't leave without Hermione," Octavia whispered, shaking visibly. "I can't leave her here, Draco."

"I know," Draco nodded, another step closer. "I had Theo retrieve her for you. She is safe back at my Manor, away from Hogwarts."

Theo found Hermione? That didn't make sense to Octavia. Hermione would never go with a Slytherin. Especially not a friend of Draco's. It didn't sit right with her, not at all.

"Where … Where did he find her?" Octavia breathed, her heartrate picking up.

"In the library," Draco answered instantly, his tone low and soft.

The tone he only ever used with her. His comforting tone. But it wasn't comforting her. For she knew that Hermione hadn't been in the library. She would have been on the fifth floor, in the charms corridor, or still at the greenhouse supervising detentions.

"What about Pansy?" Octavia asked as tears trickled down her terrified face. "I'm not leaving her."

Take the bait, Draco.

"She's with Harry," Draco assured gently, another step toward her.

"Is she?" Octavia frowned, setting a trap for him. "I haven't seen her, and she didn't say where she would be."

"Yes," Draco nodded once. "I saw them a few minutes ago, coming out of a broom closet."

Gotcha. Pansy was asleep in the dorms.

Now what?

Her boyfriend was lying to her. Straight to her face. He was scaring her, and taking her for a fool. He was with cloaked men; the castle was being attacked. Octavia didn't know who to trust. Even Blaise had tried to get her to come with him. Was he in on it? In on what? Octavia didn't know, but she knew one thing; she had a _very_ bad feeling in her gut.

Octavia nodded meekly, her face scrunching up, tears streaming down her anguished face. She dropped her arm to her side, her wand lowered as Draco almost smirked. Almost. And she noticed.

"It's ok," Draco lured, closing the distance between them and pulling her into his arms as she began to sob. "I need you to go with Blaise, Octavia. I need to know you're safe."

Octavia sobbed into his chest, the men and Blaise relaxing at her submission. Of course, they didn't know it was a pretence. A charade. She wanted them to relax.

"Draco," Octavia whined against his chest, her strangled voice screaming with heartache. "I love you."

"I love you too," Draco whispered, holding her tightly in his arms. "Trust me, and it will all be alright."

Octavia nodded as he released her from his arms, his hands resting on her slender shoulders instead. Watery hazels gazed up into stormy silver, her heart shredding to pieces. Those eyes that had always brought her such comfort and happiness were the eyes of a liar. A liar she loved with all her being.

"I'll meet you at the Manor," Draco promised, kissing her forehead gently.

"Ok," Octavia snivelled and hiccupped, wiping her tears away as she stepped back.

Draco watched her like a hawk as she slowly turned and approached Blaise, her body wracked with the tremors of her sobs. She took Blaise's extended hand and let him guide her down the corridor, away from Draco and the strange men. Remaining silent, other than her hiccups and snivels, Octavia walked with Blaise as he led her down another corridor, having no idea where he was taking her. She waited until they had gotten a good few corridors away from Draco and the cloaked men until she discreetly moved her wand behind her back and clasped it firmly in her free hand.

Pretending to stumble, Octavia yelped in feigned pain, Blaise whipping around instantly.

"My ankle," Octavia whined, hopping on one foot as a flash of concern showed in his black eyes.

Blaise instantly dropped to one knee at her feet, his hands moving to clutch her injured ankle gently, only to be frozen with the tip of her wand in his face. Octavia lowered her foot back to the ground, her hand shaking as she pressed the tip of her wand against the skin of his forehead, Blaise staring up at her with black eyes and a trademark smirk.

"Clever girl," Blaise purred, but didn't move a muscle.

Octavia stifled a sob and raised her chin, her face scrunched up in horror. It was all the confirmation she needed.

" _Flippendo!"_ Octavia shouted.

Blaise was thrown from the ground, hurling in the air down the corridor as flames poured out from her wand. Fire erupted in the corridor, right between them as Blaise righted himself and stood, wand aimed. But he couldn't see her anymore, not through the roaring flames between them.

Octavia turned on her heel and bolted down the corridor, breathing harshly and groaning as she tried to supress the sobs. Treachery and betrayal shredded at her insides as she sprinted through the dungeons, Hermione's voice ringing in her ears, mocking her destroyed soul.

 _'I told you so.' … 'I warned you.' … 'You didn't listen.'_

A never ending cycle of self-blame and heartache. She deserved it. She should have listened, but how could she? How could she have known that the man she loved would have betrayed her? How could she have believed such a thing?

But how had he betrayed her? She didn't know. She didn't know what he was doing with those men, or what was going on in the trembling castle. All she knew was that she needed to get to Pansy as quickly as possible, and then her cousin. She knew that she couldn't trust Draco.

"Octavia," Blaise's voice echoed out, singing her name mockingly. "Where are you?"

He was singing. Fucking singing her name.

Tears soaked her horrified face, but she kept running. She needed to find Pansy. She needed to get the hell away from the men she had trusted and loved. Blaise had been one her closest friends, and now he was chasing her, taunting her, having _fun_ hunting her. If her survival instincts weren't so prevalent in that moment, Octavia was certain that she would have dropped dead from the pain in her heart.

The panic didn't dim in the slightest as she reached the gargoyle, ready to shout the password and keep running. But the gargoyle was no more, only debris and rubble on the ground where it had once been. As for the door to the common room … well, it was now a hole in the wall.

The air reeked of burnt flesh and smouldering rock, the common room barely visible through the haze of smoke. She could hear scattered coughing noises and scrapes of furniture from inside, informing her that people had been injured, but were still inside. Raising her wand, Octavia walked into the smog, taking slow and hesitant steps, unable to see her wand in front of her. The smoke swiftly invaded her senses, and she fleetingly recalled a fireman visiting her primary school in her childhood. He had said that smoke rises, so she dropped to her hands and knees, crawling through the polluted air instead.

"Pansy!" Octavia shouted, wincing as she crawled into a sofa.

She got no response, other than nearby groans of pain from numerous people, but her focus was Pansy. Winding and weaving her way through the smoke and apparently invisible furniture, Octavia continued her pursuit, praying to Merlin that she found her friend before it was too late. For all she knew, Pansy could be choking on the smoke right at that very moment, or worse; she could have died in what had obviously been an explosion.

"Pansy!" Octavia called out.

Nothing.

By now, Octavia assumed that she was at least halfway into the common room, but needed to get to the girls' dormitory. Pansy may be trapped. Crawling through the debris and smoke, Octavia felt the nausea wash over her, the smoke polluting her lungs. She kept going, even as she began to cough and retch, only stopping when she reached a set of stairs. With the direction she had crawled in, Octavia knew that the stairs could only be that of the girls' dormitory, and nothing else.

Before she could even get to her feet, Octavia's body heaved, bile pouring out of her mouth as she groaned. Tears burned at her eyes, streaming down her cheeks, bile on her lips and chin, but she stumbled down the stairs on all fours regardless. The farther down she went, the better the smog cleared, thankfully. It wasn't long before she was able to stand and sprint the rest of the way to her dorm room. Only, when she reached her dormitory, the door was already partly open.

Tiptoeing down the last two steps, Octavia forced her breathing to steady and quieten. She fleetingly applauded herself for wearing socks instead of shoes, for her footsteps made no noise whatsoever, and the knitwear dress didn't rustle or swish as she moved. She didn't push the door open any further, as she didn't need to. Peeking in through the crack between the door and the frame, Octavia clasped her hands over her mouth at what she saw.

Two cloaked men were in her dormitory, rifling through her belongings. Her trunk sat open at the edge of her bed, as well as Pansy's, and the men seemed to be … _packing_! They were packing up all of their belongings. But not Daphne's … They didn't touch Daphne's, only Pansy and Octavia's possessions.

Backing off slowly, Octavia made as little noise as possible, her clammy hand clutching her white wand tightly. Shaky breaths escaped her parted lips, hitching repeatedly as she warded off an extreme sobbing fit. She forced herself to focus and ascended the stairs quickly, re-entering the smog that had previously caused her to vomit. She suddenly wished that she had studied harder and could perform safer magic, for she could certainly use an air-purifying spell, if such a thing existed.

Once she reached the common room, Octavia dropped to her knees and scurried hurriedly through the space, barely pausing even when she collided with furniture. She only stopped when she heard him. His voice, no longer teasing, but impatient and worried.

"Octavia!" Blaise bellowed, his strong voice nearby.

Octavia couldn't estimate how close he actually was to her, but was grateful for the thick smog of smoke that prevented him from spotting her on the ground. Steadying her breathing, Octavia dropped her face to hardwood floor, trying to find a speck of oxygen to inhale, in order to clear her blurring mind.

"Octavia!" Blaise shouted, anger lacing his concerned tone. "It's not safe in here! It's not safe in the castle, Tavs! You need to come with me!"

Hell no! Octavia wasn't going anywhere with the traitor! He had been _her_ friend, and Draco's second, but there he was, taking sides, choosing the wrong person. He should have chosen Octavia, if only to prevent the horrendous anguish inside of her from his betrayal.

"Tavs, I don't want to, but I'll take you by force if need be," Blaise hollered, evidently adamant that she was in the room.

How would he know that? Was it merely a lucky guess? A hunch? A calculated assessment? Or had she been a complete fool and left a trail? No … Of course not. What could possibly be used as a trail? Unless …

No … Surely not …

But what else could it be? Octavia wasn't wearing much, but there was one thing on her body that Draco had given her. One thing that he had given her that very afternoon. A necklace. Apparently a spontaneous purchase in the nearby wizarding village. A beautiful piece of jewellery that she adored and cherished.

Breathing steadily and quietly, Octavia moved her hands to the back of her neck, cautiously unclasping the necklace. Once it was unfastened, she slipped it from her neck and placed it on the floor without the slightest noise. Silence. Nothing happened.

Perhaps it had been just a necklace? It wasn't a tracking device, it seemed. How silly of her to think such a thing.

"So very clever," Blaise chuckled, confirming her suspicions. The necklace had been tracking her every move and alerting Blaise of her whereabouts constantly. "I always knew you were underestimated. But it's too late, Tavs. I have you now, cornered, trapped. Come out, and it'll all be so easy. I'll get you out of here, Tavs."

Octavia grimaced every time he used his own nickname for her. He was trying to appeal to her love for him. Manipulating her. Fucking prat.

As quietly and slowly as possible, Octavia crept through the smog, careful to push her hands out in front of her, checking for furniture. If she banged into anything now, it would reveal her location instantly. He obviously couldn't see her, for if he could, he would have hexed her by now. So if she employed as much stealth as possible, she may just escape the common room.

Delicately waving her hand in front of her, Octavia's fingers brushed against fabric, causing her to freeze instantly. Nothing happened, so she touched the fabric again, slowly crawling closer to the strange object. As she neared, bringing her face closer to the object, it began to come into her vision. A silent sob ripped through her as she realised what the object was, her face scrunched up in an attempt to stifle the noises.

"Tavs?" Blaise called out, his voice nearing.

Octavia placed her hands over her face, unable to focus in that moment. The object in front of her was the corpse of Daphne Greengrass, her eyes open and wide, gazing up at the fog vacantly. Blood pooled around her body, Octavia accidently kneeling in it, her socks absorbing the crimson liquid. But she barely noticed, for she was much too distressed at the image that would always be burned in her mind.

It was obvious that the girl had been caught in the explosion, a thought that brought Octavia close to screaming in horror. For Daphne had been sleeping in the dormitory, along with Pansy. If Daphne had been woken by the shaking of the attacked castle, Pansy would have been as well. And if Daphne hadn't made it out of the common room before an explosion went off, Pansy may be in the same condition nearby.

"Tavs, where are you?" Blaise called out, much quieter than before.

He knew she was near. He knew he was closing in on her, and Octavia knew it too, from the approaching sound of his voice and footsteps.

Resisting the urge to puke, Octavia slowly crawled over the dead boy her dorm mate, taking great care to make as little noise as possible. Thankfully, a few people had been injured – yes, a selfish thought, but it brought her an advantage. Their coughs and groans came from all over the common room, muffling out the sounds of her foot splodging in the pool of Daphne's blood.

Bile crept up in her throat, the acidic liquid trickling into her mouth as she scampered through the common room. Blaise called out for her again, but his voice was further away than before, suspiciously close to where Daphne's body lay. Octavia tried to focus her vision, but it proved to be difficult due to the tears and smoke that burned her lungs.

An overwhelming surge of relief shot through her, increasing her silent weeping as she reached the hole in the wall. The space that had once been the door to the common room. Continuing to crawl, making herself as small and inconspicuous as possible in the clearing smog, Octavia crept out of the common room and into the debris of the corridor.

Once she glanced around, satisfied that the coast was clear, Octavia jumped to her feet and bolted down the corridor, right in the direction of the foyer. In the direction of the chaos that boomed through the shaking castle, screams of agony piercing through the trembling air. Another thunderous bang shook the castle, Octavia placing the palm of her hand on the rough stone wall for balance as the ground quivered violently. Once the ground settled as much as it was going to, Octavia resumed her sprint through the corridors, fast approaching the mayhem in the foyer. Before she could reach her desired destination, however, the sound of screeching halted her in her tracks.

Octavia skidded to a halt, scurrying into the shadows of a shivering alcove, hiding from the voices of the nearby men. From the proximity of their voices and the accompanied shrieks, she suspected that they were in the corridor that forked off a metre ahead. A corridor that she had to pass in order to reach the foyer.

"Just kill her already," a bored voice drawled, the shrieking ending instantly. "I said kill her, not silence her."

"The bosses said to only kill those who resist," another man spoke, his voice gruff and unrefined.

"Then ask her," the drawl retorted coolly. A familiar voice. "We don't have much longer."

Octavia didn't hear the question that the gruff man was supposed to ask. She only heard the crunching of bones and gurgled cries. A gasp of horror ripped through her as a river of blood ran down from the corridor that the men occupied. Pressing her back further against the wall, Octavia trembled violently, her eyes shut tight as a few men laughed, while she was suppressing the urge to vomit up her organs.

"Let's move," the bored drawl ordered. "Draco will have retrieved the diadem by now."

"Already?" The gruff man spoke.

"I guess time really does fly when you're having fun," a woman laughed madly,

"I'd advise that you drop the habit of calling him by his name," another scolded.

"He's my son, I will call him what I want." The familiar drawl responded coldly, Octavia's eyes widening as she realised that it belonged to Lucius Malfoy.

"Technically, he isn't," a woman countered. "And after the ritual is complete, I'd be surprised if he didn't decorate the walls with your intestines if he heard you speak his name."

The voices quietening as they presumably departed the corridor, Octavia unable to hear Lucius Malfoy's response.

Thankfully, they appeared to be going in the direction opposite to Octavia's current hiding spot. And not a very good hiding spot, at that. If they had walked in her direction, she had no doubt that they would see her instantly, and if Blaise went looking for her, he was sure to find her so out in the open.

The moment that voices were no longer audible, Octavia slipped out of the alcove and snuck over to the corridor with the river of blood. She peeked around the side, her heart clenching and soul traumatised at the sight she was met with. An unknown woman with purple hair and colourful robes lay in a tangled heap of blood and limbs on the ground. Her eyes were open, blood streaming out of the corners, her neck twisted at a full circle. Octavia had no idea who the woman was, but cried for her premature and ghastly death regardless.

No longer able to withstand the nausea, Octavia doubled over and heaved horridly, pure bile spilling out of her parted lips as she sobbed. Her face was soaked with a mixture of tears and vomit, her dress and socks drenched in the blood of Daphne Greengrass. But her heart was aching and utterly destroyed, knowing that her boyfriend had some part in all of this horror. Her boyfriend who was looking for a diadem, which Octavia believed to be some sort of a tiara.

She couldn't focus on that, though. She couldn't allow the tremendous heartbreak to consume her. She had to find Pansy and get the both of them the hell out of the castle. Away from Draco and Blaise. Away from the men Octavia had trusted more than anyone in the world a mere hour ago. Was it an hour? She wasn't sure. It truly felt like a life-time ago that she was anxiously picking out clothes for her 'surprise'. Well. She was definitely surprised, but not in the way she had originally anticipated.

Footsteps sounded out, further down a nearby corridor to her left. Octavia suddenly remembered Blaise being on the hunt for her, and wasted not a second before she took off at a run. She scrammed down the corridor hastily, her wild curls billowing behind her as she panted and whimpered repeatedly. A cramp clenched at her tummy along with the horror, but she pushed through it. She had no choice. She had to keep going, purely for survival. Who knows what would happen to her if encountered a cloaked figure or Draco's father. Who knows what would happen if Blaise caught up to her. She didn't want to find out.

Harsh breaths tore through her throat as she sprinted, scrambling to a stop as she reached the desired corridor at the end. She veered off onto the passageway, wincing as her sock-clad feet connected with debris on the ground, but she ignored the stabbing pain. The sounds of screams and explosions increased in volume as she ran, her chest heaving from pure adrenaline and exertion.

As she reached the small staircase that led to the foyer, a deafening bang exploded in front of her, debris shooting in her direction. Screaming manically, Octavia turned to run away, but didn't manage to escape. Chunks of castle wall soared by her, a few rocks whacking her square on the back and legs, sending her hurling through the air. Octavia felt a sharp impact on the back of her skull, right before she landed harshly on the rubble-covered ground. A warm gush of liquid poured down her forehead and left cheek, her curls feeling wet in some areas, her brain buzzing and vision blurring.

In and out darkness she fell, lying face-down on the rubble, motionless. The chaos around her went unnoticed by Octavia, for she only saw bloodied rocks and only heard a loud ringing noise in her ears. She didn't know how long she lay there, unmoving, blinking at blood-smeared rock. Her curls matted together from the blood that seeped out of the wounds on her head, but she didn't feel it. She didn't feel anything.

Sweat, blood and tears covered her body as she pushed herself from the rubble. She was red and grey, ashen from the explosion she had been caught in. Slowly, the ringing noise dimmed, but didn't leave. The sounds of the battle in the foyer penetrated her ears, seeping back into her mind, Octavia returning to reality gradually. Her hazy movements remained slow and lazy, just like her stunned mind. Suddenly, she began to feel crippling pain like nothing she had ever felt before.

A horrid high-pitched scream tore through the rubble, and it took her a moment to realise that it was coming from her. Pain stabbed at scattered places on her head and back, her wrist aflame with blinding agony. If the noise of the battle hadn't been so loud, she was certain that her scream would have been heard. Maybe it had been. She didn't know.

Sluggishly getting to her feet, Octavia clutched her wrist against her chest, the bones shattered and mangled. Blood dripped from her furrowed brows, obscuring her vision occasionally, but she managed to stumble around and face the fog. The fog concealed what had once been a small staircase, which was now nothing more than wreckage. Staggering forward, Octavia groaned from the consuming pain that assaulted her, but climbed up the pile of debris and through the fog to the foyer.

Once she reached the top, her legs gave out beneath her and she went sprawling down onto the harsh remains of stone and brick. Blood coated the floor, spilling from scattered corpses. Lights flashed and soared through the foyer, green and red, battling fiercely. Students and Professors fought, some falling to injuries, some falling to death. Some fought against each other, others battled against cloaked figures.

Pushing herself to her feet again, Octavia breathed hoarsely, certain that the impact of the explosion had damaged her lungs. Her anguished hazel eyes gazed around the ferocious battle in front of her, blood splattering through the air, decorating the walls, piles of organs and intestines smearing the ground, random unattached limbs scattered around. The air reeked of death and blood, burned and boiled flesh, singed hair and stone. If Octavia had anything left to vomit, she would have undoubtedly done so.

Swaying on the spot, her expression pained and dazed, Octavia observed the battle lazily, her mind trying to focus. A flash of sleek dark brown hair caught her attention, Octavia frowning as she tried to clear her blurred vision. Her eyes narrowed as she stumbled forward, gaining closer to the brunette. After a few moments, Octavia came to her senses, seeing Pansy duelling Adrian Pucey vehemently. Pucey was a Slytherin from the year above them, and had always been on cordial terms with Octavia and Pansy. He wasn't exactly cordial in that moment though.

Hex after hex fired from his wand, his black cloak billowing around his body like vapours of darkness. Octavia frowned as she noticed that he only fired hexes, though, and not the unforgivables like the other cloaked figures in the foyer. The others were fighting to kill, but Adrian was fighting to restrain. Pansy was doing a hell of a job deflecting his hexes though, managing to fire her own in between the shielding spells.

Staggering forward to help her friend, Octavia suddenly realised that she was without her wand. She must have lost it in the explosion. She couldn't help. Unless …

Spinning around in frantic circles and turns, Octavia's gaze darted from corpse to corpse, looking for a wand. She spotted one quickly, diving for it through the mayhem of the battle. Right as she grabbed the wand and scurried to her feet, Professor Umbridge went flying through the air, splatting into an eruption of blood and guts as she collided with the wall. Octavia didn't even want to know who had cast that spell, or which side the attacker was on. She had to help Pansy.

Gripping the brown crooked wand in her hand, Octavia jogged over to Pansy, unable to force her bruised and aching legs to move faster. She lurched to a stop beside Pansy, Adrian's eyes widening the moment he saw her. The reaction wasn't of fear, but of surprise, and lasted a mere millisecond. Without speaking, Adrian resumed duelling fiercely, blasts of light soaring repeatedly at both girls. Octavia was certainly not the best at magic, and every spell she had ever performed usually resulted in blasts of flames erupting from her wand, but for once, she saw that as an advantage.

" _Stupify!_ " Octavia shouted hoarsely, whacking her wand in his direction.

As predicted, bursts of fire soared out of her wand, blasting right at Adrian. He stumbled back, waving his wand, trying to douse and deflect the flames, but they didn't touch him. They merely danced around him full circle, trapping him. Octavia had no idea how or why that had happened, for she couldn't control the fire, but took the opportunity without question.

"Come on!" Octavia shouted, snatching Pansy's bruised wrist.

Pansy winced from the firmness of the grasp, but didn't resist and ran with Octavia. They wound and weaved their way through the chaos of the battle, ducking and diving out of the way of stray spells and hexes. They both tumbled over a mangled corpse, colliding brutally with the bloodied ground.

"Octavia!" Hermione bellowed from the doors of the foyer.

The doors were no longer there, and much like the Slytherin common room, a charred hole replaced them. The wall was gone entirely, and Hermione stood in the centre, calling out for Octavia as she duelled a cloaked figure fiercely.

"Octavia, over here!"

Pansy helped Octavia to her feet before they stumbled forward, trying to move quickly, but the pain in their bodies was near-crippling. The two girls clutched their wands tightly as they stumbled toward Hermione. Pansy hexed the cloaked figure from behind, blasting him through the hole and onto the grounds of the castle.

Hermione, no longer duelling the unconscious cloaked man, ran toward the pair frantically. She stopped at Octavia's side, hauling her limp arm over her shoulder to support her weight, both Hermione and Pansy hurrying out of the castle. Octavia tried to move her feet, but darkness was coming for her, and both Hermione and Pansy seemed to be carrying her weight onto the grounds of the castle. The battle was in full swing on the grounds too, people fighting and dying all around them. But there was a stream of students and Professors running down the main path to the nearby wizarding village, escaping the school and attack.

Professor McGonagall stood on the path, expertly duelling two men at once, and shouting out to the students. "Everyone! Get to Hogsmeade now! Get to the village! Fall back! Hogwarts is no more! Everyone get out!"

The Professor shouted and shouted, never stopping as she battled the two men fiercely, students pouring out of the castle in a panic. Professors and unknown adults herded injured students down the path, calling out for others constantly. It was chaos. Mayhem. Desperate people trying to survive and escape the castle behind them.

Octavia frowned as she forced herself to glance over her shoulder at the castle she had called her home for six years. She immediately understood the reason for retreat and evacuation. It was almost completely engulfed in flames. Well, the parts that were still standing were, at least.

"What the fuck is happening?" Pansy shouted as they ran.

"Malfoy and Potter," Hermione panted. "They brought Death Eaters into the castle! We were wrong! It's not Voldemort, it's Potter! He's Voldemort's heir!"

"What?" Pansy screeched, disbelief and panic etched onto her features as they ran.

"Potter is the heir! He and Malfoy killed Dumbledore!" Hermione shouted over the thunderous booms of the battle around them.

All of a sudden, Octavia was thrown off her feet, she and Pansy being tackled to the grassy ground. A strangled inhale came from Octavia as she landed on the grass with an audible thud, her limbs unable to move and fight the body on top of hers. Her left cheek was pressed into the blades of grass, her hooded eyes gazing at Pansy beside her. The brunette was face-down, being straddled by Harry as he grasped her wrists together tightly behind her back. The same was being done to Octavia by whomever was on top of her. Hermione's scream was heard incredibly close by, but Octavia couldn't see her cousin.

Her cousin.

The girl who had been right all along. The girl who had warned Octavia repeatedly about the dangers of Draco, but Octavia had never listened. She dismissed her cousin's warnings time after time, and had only began to pay them any mind that very day. When it was far too late. And now she had no idea what would happen to them. Draco obviously wanted Octavia taken to his Manor, but what of Pansy and Hermione? What would Octavia experience at the Manor?

Unwilling to find out, Octavia closed her eyes in concentration, attempting to clear her foggy mind and awaken her drowsy state. Draco was able to perform wandless magic, so why couldn't she? Oh, that's why. She was an awful witch, unable to perform the simplest of spells without blowing everyone up. Again, she saw this as an advantage and used it. It was all she had.

 _Fire. Fire. Fire. Fire._

She repeated it over and over again in her mind, even her mental voice thick with sobs and pain.

"Octavia!" Hermione screeched. "Octavia, fight!"

She was! Didn't Hermione know that? She was doing all she could possibly do in that moment!

 _Fire. Fire. Fire. Fire._

"Octavia!" Draco's voice boomed out from far away.

Oh fuck. Oh no. She was done for.

 _Fire! Fire! Fire! Fire!_

Focus. Breathe. Concentrate.

Octavia forced her mind to see only flames, feeling an odd tingle coursing through her veins. Her wrists were being tied behind her back with course rope, the agony of her broken wrist being manhandled almost penetrating her concentration. Not enough though. The tingle grew, burning through her, alighting her veins and nerves, blood pouring out of her nose. Her body began to shake, violently, thrashing. It was then that she realised who was on top of her. Theo.

"Something's wrong with her!" Theodore shouted, probably to Draco.

"Hold her down!" Draco bellowed, his voice coming nearer, presumably bounding toward them. "Don't hurt her, just hold her down!"

A seizure. That's what it would have looked like. She jolted, jerked, twitched and thrashed. Her mind no longer saw flames, but she _felt_ them. The fire. It was inside of her, but not killing her, not burning her.

Suddenly, the ropes erupted in flames, scorching right off her body, but not charring her skin in the slightest. She couldn't stop. She kept going, thrashing and screaming on the grass, Theo crying out as he was blasted from her body. Harry glanced at her with wide eyes, but only for a moment. He was quickly engulfed in a blaze of fire, the flames licking and dancing up his robes, but it didn't burn him. Why not? She didn't know. She couldn't control it. It just happened that way.

Red and orange. That's all she saw; fire everywhere, infernos slithering over the grass, raising high up in the air, stopping anyone from approaching her. Protecting her. Draco was calling out for her, but his voice was almost drowned out by the roar of the blaze.

Someone grabbed her and hauled her to her feet, sleek brown hair entering her vision. Pansy. Octavia limped beside her friend, Hermione quickly joining them, her face bloodied and bruised, her hair wild, eyes ablaze with fear and fury.

The three girls hobbled down the path, Professor McGonagall lying motionless on the grass. Dead. Eyes glassy, lips parted, a single trail of blood trickling out of her mouth, down her wrinkled cheek. Octavia was sure that if she wasn't so close to passing out, she would have screamed. But she didn't, for she couldn't. There was no energy in her body. She could barely walk.

Down the path, they hobbled. Stumbling. Closer to the gates; closer to an escape.

"Octavia!" Draco bellowed. "Octavia, get back here!"

Hermione glanced over her shoulder as they stumbled down the path, Pansy supporting Octavia's weight.

"They're coming!" Hermione cried, grabbing Octavia's arm and picking up their pace. "Hurry!"

Octavia panted roughly, her eyelids almost fully obscuring her vision as she staggered and lurched. The gates were so close. So very close. Octavia didn't have the energy to try and use fire against them again. She wasn't even sure how she had done it in the first place. It was like an intuition, begging and nagging in her mind to be used. But used it could be no longer.

"Can you apparate?" Pansy panted, not glancing at Hermione as she they ran.

"Yeah, I think so." Hermione gasped, exertion taking its toll on her. "I've studied the practice, but -"

"Octavia!" Draco shouted, gaining on them. "Octavia, stop!"

"Keep going!" Hermione ordered, practically dragging O with her. "We're almost there!"

Pansy hoisted Octavia's arm over her shoulder, slipping her own arm around her waist to support more of her weight. Octavia's eyelids drooped considerably, her current surroundings beginning to fade into blurs of objects. Darkness creeped in, dancing around her threateningly, teasing and mocking her. She fought it for as long as she could, her legs buckling beneath her as they reached the gates.

"I'm slowing you down," Octavia croaked. "Just go. You won't make it if you're carrying me."

"No." Hermione breathed in utter exhaustion. "Sorry in advance."

"For wha- argh!"

Hermione shoved Octavia over the threshold, the girl sent tumbling down the grassy hill. Pansy and Hermione quickly followed, protecting their heads with their hands as they crouched down and propelled themselves down the hill after Octavia. Running wasn't fast enough anymore, for Harry, Draco and Theo had closed most of the distance between them.

Octavia's limp body spiralled down the hill at a swift pace, Hermione and Pansy catching up to her quickly, using their wands to increase their speed. All three girls collided with each other at the bottom of the hill, their limbs tangled together in a heap.

"Fuck you," Octavia groaned to Hermione for shoving her done the hill.

"You're welcome," Hermione muttered, untangling herself from the other two girls.

Hermione kept her wand clutched in her hand, Pansy grabbing Octavia's hand and latching onto Hermione's waist.

"Ready?" Hermione asked, glancing up at the gated atop the hill.

"Ready," Pansy nodded once securing her hold on both girls.

Hermione paused momentarily as she stared at the men atop the hill. Harry and Draco stood in front of Blaise and Theo, all four of them looking completely murderous, but Draco most of all. Octavia's dazed gaze was fixed on the same thing before Hermione apparated them, and she experienced a dreadful sensation, somewhat similar to what it would feel like to be squeezed out of a toothpaste tube.

Her surroundings blurred and whirled, changing entirely to something else altogether. But Octavia didn't see where they apparated to, for she quickly gave into the darkness around her, passing out before they even landed on the other side.

The last thing she saw was the agony in Draco's eyes as the castle burned behind him. She would forever remember his eyes. The teary molten silver eyes that shone with defeat and heartache. Like her own. But unlike her own, his eyes held a terrifying promise. His gaze had said it all.

 _I will come for you._

* * *

 **THE END.**

 **SEQUEL: A DRACONIAN WORLD.**


End file.
